


The Taming

by jiruchan



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 20:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2824772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiruchan/pseuds/jiruchan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An answer to the "Bathe Her and Bring Her To Me" trope prompt from haytham-senpai at Tumblr. (Originally posted in my Tumblr.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> I initially wanted Ratonhnhaké:ton to be a lot meaner, but a part of me was iffy at the thought of him having to force his woman. I’d like to think that despite the fact that his AU character is darker he still maintains his core personality.

“She is the one.”

“ _Monseigneur_ , surely, the ladies we have brought to serve you are more equipped to… satisfy your desires?”

A single glare from Ratonhnhaké:ton’s blue eyes sends Stephane Chapeau bowing down low in supplication. “I only mean to say that she is a virgin and thus, she may not be able to please you. She has never even kissed a man in her life!”

Ratonhnhaké:ton smiles. Stephane is momentarily taken aback by how candid he looks with that grin on his face. “I do not care about her inexperience, Stephane. There is something about her that… calls out to me,” he says softly, his smile turning fond. He looks very pensive, as if he is remembering a long-forgotten memory.

The French man’s eyes widen slightly. There is something about that look that unnerves him. “I see. Would you prefer that we send her to your room now?”

“No.” He closes his eyes. “Have the women bathe her thoroughly,” he utters slowly, “then I want her dressed in a full colonial gown.” The smile turns into a smirk, but he stays silent, his eyes still closed. One does not need to read his thoughts to know what he is thinking of.

Stephane merely bows low again, unwilling to say anything more that will interrupt his lord’s daydream.

\--

“You are a very lucky woman, my lady. To have Ratonhnhaké:ton wanting to bed you is an honour.”

“There is no honour in this!” you exclaim, trying to pull away from the hold of the two lady servants beside you. “I would rather die than be this brute’s sex slave!”

The one leading you swiftly turns around, her hazel eyes flashing in annoyance. The woman takes a step closer. “Listen to me, _my lady_ ,” she says. “Every woman you see in his abode would _kill_ to have Ratonhnhaké:ton even look at them. The only reason why no one has killed you is he _will_ know and the culprit will face the full force of his wrath.” She smiles thinly. “Have you seen him angry?”

When you do not reply, the woman’s eyes narrow. One hand grabs your chin. Her hold is very firm and you feel your limbs trembling slightly at the hidden strength of those delicate-looking hands. “I ask you _again_ : Have you seen Ratonhnhaké:ton angry?”

“N-no.”

“Then pray you need not to. There is a reason why he commands the absolute loyalty of those who serve him.” She curtly nods her head once at the two ladies and turns around.

\--

Ratonhnhaké:ton smiles as he stares at the spectacle in front of him. Unbeknownst to everyone but him, he can will the Apple to show him anything that happens in his dwelling. He has never really found any use of that power… until now.

He watches while his servants bathe her, utterly rapt. She has never told him her name, even swearing that she would never give him the satisfaction of knowing who she truly is. The untamed fire in her eyes, that defiant jut of her jaw… oh, how he wants to break down her walls and finally make her surrender to him.

He bites his bottom lip as he rubs his growing erection through his trousers. Watching his servants dip their hands on her skin is truly a test of his patience. Her gorgeous heaving breasts are in full view; his hands ache to touch them, his mouth watering at the thought of nipping and tasting her hardened peaks.

When she stands up at the behest of the servants, he briefly sees that mound of hair covering her intimately before she turns around. The image of her perfectly rounded and firm buttocks assaults his gaze, enticing him to do naughty things to it.

As the women wipe her dry, he very much wishes he were the one doing it. He would do it gently, like a thoughtful lover would. He would pat her wet hair dry and run his fingers through it. She would be confused, expecting him to be more rough and aggressive, but he would keep caressing her hair until he could see the blush on her cheeks. Then, and only then, would he start touching her naked body, feeling every soft curve of her flesh, the delicate firmness of her muscles. He would place his face against her neck and she would smell _incredible_ : The lightest hint of roses laced with a darker spicy scent. He would keep fondling her until she could take it no more and would beg him to make love to her.

He feels himself growing harder and he licks his suddenly dry lips, rubbing his hand harder against his erection. Yes, it would be easier to simply force her to bend to his will, but there is no real pleasure in that. He wants her to look at him with the same burning need he has for her. He wants her to slowly succumb and surrender to him, willingly. It will be a great test to his resolve, but Ratonhnhaké:ton revels in such challenges.

He smiles again. He _will_ have her… and she _will_ give into him.

\--

You sit on the bed in full colonial regalia, a picture of perfect calmness, but in the silence of your heart you are screaming. _No, no, NO! I refuse this!_ Your whole body starts to shake. Fear and indignation surge through you, drowning you in a muddle of helplessness and defeat. _No! Stay calm. He would only want to see you terrified. Don’t give him that satisfaction._ You take deep calming breaths and survey the room slowly. Artefacts of mostly Native in origin adorn the walls and a few of them look dangerous enough to be weapons. You eye what seems to be the lightest and smallest of them all. It looks like it’s made of bone, but is sharp enough to pierce. It may not be enough to kill _him_ , but it may be enough for you to escape.

You stand up, cursing inwardly at your shaking knees, and walk over to the wall. You hesitate for a moment. Would you dare use this weapon against him and likely incur his wrath on you? Anger swells inside you again. _Better fight than do nothing at all!_ You are about to reach for it when the door behind you opens.

“If you wish to use that as means for escape, then I am afraid you would only be disappointed.”

You whip around, the weapon already in your hand. But as soon as you see _him_ you are startled beyond measure. All this time, you have only seen him as a beast: The wolf hood partly conceals the face underneath it with dark shadows, and the fur cloaking him makes him larger and less human. With all those gone, though… you swallow against the sudden lump in your throat. His eyes have always been visible under the hood, but now that you can clearly see them they seem less threatening. The electric blue colour looks very uncanny for someone of his heritage, but… peculiar as his eyes may be, what truly surprises you is how human he is.

…How _attractive_ he is.

The wolf hood has hidden so much. His face is weathered and he seems older for his age, but it does not diminish his attractiveness. He has that battle-worn, haunted look in his eyes, showing a hint of vulnerability in that devilishly handsome face. You swallow nervously. There is certainly a dark and fierce quality in him, but that nearly unnoticeable innocent look in his eyes… it destroys every impression you have of him.

Well, _almost_. _He is only confusing you. He is still a savage, power-hungry beast!_ Determination flares up in your veins and you point the weapon towards him, proud that your hand only shakes a little. “Don’t come any closer!”

The smile he gives you in response infuriates you even more. Before you know it, you find yourself taking several steps closer to him. He tilts his head, his expression turning more amused. “I am not even moving and yet, here _you_ are,” he murmurs, not even flinching when the tip of the dagger touches his bare chest.With a sneer, you jab the dagger through his flesh. A sadistic feeling of thrill races through your body like adrenaline when you see blood dripping from the wound.

To your utter surprise, Ratonhnhaké:ton merely sighs and clicks his tongue. You watch in horror when he grabs your hand holding the dagger. “I was shot thrice by your King Washington. He even stabbed me with a musket for good measure.” He yanks the dagger away from his chest, but he continues holding your hand. Only then do you notice the three circular scars on the left side of his muscled torso. Your eyes widen. The fresh bloody wound you have inflicted looks like a tiny scratch compared to these scars. “Do you really think this would stop me?” he asks. He pries your fingers away from the dagger and it drops to the floor with a soft clink. His smile is gone and the look he is giving you is intense.

You expected a violent reaction, but not this. The muted tone in his voice is suddenly ten times more frightening. You try pulling your hand away from his, but he does not budge. Desperation is quickly overcoming you. “I-I don’t c-care! You rule only because you strike fear into the hearts of many! I wish King Washington really did kill you. I’m sure the rest of the people wish the same thing, too!”

He narrows his eyes at your sudden outburst. He says nothing, but the look in his eyes is growing more agitated.

“You are worse than Washington!” you scream. “I would rather be ruled by a mad king like him than be subservient to the likes of brutes such as you!”

“Enough.” The sound of his voice is deathly calm, unnerving you even more. You attempt to move away from his grasp again; in retaliation, he tugs you towards him and you hit his hard body with a gasp.

“I do not wish to argue with you, hellcat,” he murmurs, a slight edge in his tone.

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss. You _hate_ it when men address you that way; in your experience, only men who wish to ‘put women in their place’ use that term. When you raise your other hand to push him away, he simply grabs it. You try shoving him, but he is like an immoveable brick wall.

“If you do not wish me to call you in such a manner, then give me your name.”

“No!”

“Then I shall continue calling you in whatever way I choose.” He forcibly shoves your hands down, a small smirk on his mouth at your pitiful attempts to strike his face.

You shriek when he suddenly carries you over his shoulder. With your hands now free, though, you can finally hit him with all your might. You yell obscenities, wishing that your fists can go through his solid back and break his bones, but he does not even recoil from you no matter how hard you are hitting. He leisurely continues his walk and finally drops you on the bed, making you yelp.

You immediately sit up, ready to fight him until your last breath, but he merely looks at you while standing by the edge of the bed. Your limbs are shaking and outright _prepared_ for his onslaught, and yet he does not do anything. “I will kill you, you bastard!” you scream, your entire body trembling with anger and adrenaline. “I swear I’ll _kill_ you the moment you lay your filthy hands on me!”

“Calm down,” he says quietly.

“C-calm down…?” you sputter in disbelief. “How can you even—”

“I do not wish to force myself on you,” he interrupts.

“Really? Then pray tell, why am I here inside your bedroom, _against my wishes,_ sitting on _your_ bed? You don’t wish to force yourself on me, huh?” You laugh bitterly. “Don’t give me that chivalrous attitude when we both know that you’re just a savage beast waiting to strike down his prey!”

The anger that flares in his eyes is so sudden it makes you forget all remaining thought. Your outrage quickly turns into pure terror and time itself seems to have paralysed. In that brief but vivid moment, you finally understand why Ratonhnhaké:ton has the power to lead and influence whole armies.

He shakes his head, the anger in those blue eyes fading away. “When I first saw you, you were homeless, your family killed by Washington’s soldiers. You were barely even alive.” He sits on the edge of the bed, sighing when you scramble as far away as possible from him. “Even then, you had the spirit. You kept fighting even when you were at death’s door.” The look he is now giving you is strange. He looks… tender. “It was the one thing that drew me to you,” he murmurs. He looks away and shockingly, a touch of crimson stains his cheeks. “I wanted to save you from that life,” he says, barely above whisper.

You feel poleaxed at his admission. “W-what?” You clench your fists. “Don’t make me laugh,” you say through gritted teeth. “Don’t pretend that you’re my saviour when you’ve practically abducted me. I didn’t want this!”

He smiles at you ruefully. “I know my methods are not… ideal, but I truly wanted to help you.”

“Then you should let me leave this place.”

His regretful smile drops slightly and you notice him clenching his fists. “I cannot let that happen. You may think otherwise, but this is for the best.”

You sneer at him. “Only someone as twisted as you would believe that what you’re doing is noble and right,” you spat.

There is a noticeable tick in his jaw and he sighs in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you truly believe that, then I would not waste my breath convincing you otherwise. However,” his eyes darken, and you feel terror filling you again, “do not compare me to Washington. I have only brought peace and purpose to this land.” His voice is very low and threatening, sending a chill down your spine. “You may question my motives bringing you here, but never _ever_ question my authority.”

Much as you hate to admit it, this man has indeed done more good than bad. His rule has allowed people their personal freedoms and he even keeps advisers instead of silencing voices other than his own. The people may fear him, but they also respect him, which is more than you can say about Washington.

He stands up and you watch in surprise when he starts walking away from you. “Where are you going?” you blurt out.

He stops, but does not turn around. “It is clear that you do not want my presence, so I will leave you be.”

“What in bloody hell is your game?” you demand angrily. “Do you really think that this behaviour would make me change my mind about you? That acting like you only wish what’s the best for me would make me _want_ you?”

He stays quiet for a few moments before he finally turns to look at you. “Yes,” he replies. His honesty surprises you into silence for a brief moment. “I will do _anything_ to make you see why I am the only man for you,” he says in a voice that brooks no argument.

You force out a mocking laugh even as you feel your heart skipping a beat. “Don’t waste your breath! I won’t change my mind and I will _never_ want you.”

The sudden smirk on his face is alarming. He does not say a word of retort, unsettling you even more. You grit your teeth. “You really should just give it up and finish what you intend to do to me. What are you waiting for, savage?”

His smirk turns cockier. An unexpected surge of desire seizes you then, confusing you. _I am_ not _attracted to this brute!_

“I will not touch you until you ask me to,” he purrs, his eyes twinkling with mischief before he turns around and walks away again.

“U-until I a-ask you t-to…?” you sputter, outraged. “How _dare_ you! I will _never_ … how can you even… _I HATE YOU!_ ” you shriek at his retreating back.


	2. The Calm Before The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, my long-delayed continuation to this. I initially wanted to write the continuation as just one part, but it’s now over 10K words and it’s still ongoing. I had to split the story somewhere. ;^_^ Also, the muse wanted more sweet moments, so it made sense to cut it in half and just leave the sexy scenes in the last part. Hopefully, it won’t take me long to finish it. ;A;

For the next several weeks, you resist him, not that it is particularly difficult. You are never alone when he is around; his female servants – who are now also yours apparently – are always with you. Surprisingly, you have formed a rapport with the stern hazel-eyed servant. Her name is Roselyn and she is the closest thing you have for a confidant.

He lets you stay in his lavish quarters, but other than your first night he has never attempted to visit you again. Night after night, you look at the door, expecting him to come rushing in and finally shed off that feigned chivalry, but nothing happens.

Instead, he showers you with gifts: Clothes to replace your miserable ones and books enough to fill an entire library when he finds out your passion for them. He even attempted to give you flowers, but once he became aware of your allergies he prohibited them from his residence. You cannot stop smiling when you recall with some fondness how he nearly banished entire families of flora.

“ _I will order their removal from the colonies at once.”_

_You gape at him, ignoring the way Roselyn gives you a subtle nudge with her elbow. “Are you serious? You can’t just make an order like that! Besides, I’m just one person with a ridiculous allergy. Many people love them and want them around.”_

_He paces back and forth, his jaw set in a hard line. “They make you ill,” he replies in a clipped voice._

_You let out a sigh of exasperation. “That they do, which is why giving me flowers is a bad idea. It is also a bad idea to order an outright ban of the poor things.” You give him a look of disapproval. “Is this how you solve problems in your kingdom? You merely remove them from your sight?” you ask in a mocking tone._

_Something flashes in his eyes for the briefest moment. If it is anger or doubt, you cannot tell. He mutters something under his breath in his native language before he quickly turns around and leaves._

_You roll your eyes. “No manners, as usual. Ugh, he’s such an uncouth ba—“_

_“My lady, don’t be too hard on him,” Roselyn interjects softly. She finishes braiding your hair and squeezes your shoulders gently. “This is all new for him. He’s trying his very best to understand you.”_

_You turn around, shooting her with a glare. “Oh, really? If he truly wants to understand me, then he should stop with this nonsense and get into his thick head that I only want one thing: Freedom.”_

_“But you_ are _free to do whatever you wish here, my lady.”_

 _“Yes, ‘ **here**_ ’ - that _is exactly the problem, Roselyn! I cannot leave this place. I’m stuck_ **here** _.”_

_The look she gives you is veiled. “And if he lets you leave this place, where will you go?”_

_You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Where_ will _you go? Nothing and no one is waiting for you out there. You grit your teeth. “It doesn’t matter; he_ still _abducted me.”_

_“Do you truly believe that?” she asks gently. The subtle, but knowing look she gives you feels like it is penetrating through your very core. You narrow your eyes and cross your arms. “Yes, I do.”_

_She sighs and shakes her head. She arranges your hair one more time before standing up. “Very well. I can’t change what you think. But let me tell you this,” she gives you a piercing stare, “just before he left, I’m certain you heard him say something.”_

_“And? I care not,” you scoff._

_“‘_ I only want to keep you from harm’, _that is what he said,” she finishes._

 _Unexpectedly, your heart throbs painfully, whispering words of rebuke._ He cares about you, fool! Why do you keep resisting?

No! _you yell at yourself._ Why would the bastard even care about my well-being? _“Pretty words, Roselyn, but we both know that it’s all just a way to bring my guard down and open my legs for him.”_

_Roselyn frowns, a look of disbelief on her face. “Do you think our lord only wants to bed you?”_

_You roll your eyes. “Why else would he keep me? Why else would he have the lot of_ you _?”_

_Her frown deepens. She almost looks angry. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but do you actually think that he keeps female servants for him to have sex with?”_

_“Well, are you not just his glorified harem?” you ask with disdain. “I bet he has ravished each one of you, repeatedly, and maybe even all of you at once! He is nothing but a mindless beast who—“_

_“Stop it!” Roselyn suddenly exclaims, grabbing both of your arms tightly and shaking you. You wince and try to pull yourself away. Horrified realisation dawns on her eyes and she quickly lets you go. “I-I am sorry, my lady. I didn’t mean to…” She rubs your arms soothingly, but the troubled look on her face remains. “Do you really believe that our lord is capable of those things?” she asks, incredulous._

_“What else would I think? A man like him obviously has a lot of needs. He could not be possibly satisfied with just one woman.”_

_She shakes her head. There is almost pity on her youthful face. “And that’s where you’re wrong, my lady. There is no harem. None of the female servants have serviced him in_ that _manner. He does not even like being touched! I daresay he hasn’t even bedded a woman his entire life.”_

Ratonhnhaké:ton, a virgin? _You laugh out loud. “That’s preposterous.”_

_“Why?”_

_“He is the ruler and has power beyond imagining. He can have anyone he wants,” you reply, waving your hand dismissively. “It’s absurd that someone of his stature would be chaste.”_

_“Then you do not know him at all.” She takes your hands and squeezes them. “_ You _are the only one he has shown interest to. Yes, he wants to bed you, but that is because he has chosen you to be his mate.”_

_You open your mouth to argue, but she raises a hand. “You can keep denying it, but that is the truth, my lady. He wants to take care of you. He wants to keep you safe.”_

_You clench your fists, hating the frantic way your heart is beating. “Please stop this nonsense, Roselyn. I refuse to discuss this further.”_

You have tried to push her words away from your mind, but they linger, a single but annoying flicker of light in the comforting darkness of your beliefs. You want to cling to your preconceived notions of him, but Roselyn’s words are slowly whittling your stubbornness away.

He _has_ kept you safe, hasn’t he? There is no denying that what he has done for you has always been with _your_ best interests in mind. 

Without warning, you remember how he rescued you from Washington’s men. You remember how you were delirious with hunger and scarcely holding onto the remaining threads of your life. You remember seeing him swoop down on the soldiers. You barely noticed the deadly grace of his movements for your eyes were locked on his face: He looked like vengeful angel of death, his mouth opened as if he was _screaming_ his rage. In fact, in your delirium you believed that he _was_ an angel sent to finally take you away from your wretched life.

And didn’t he do exactly that?

You refuse to dignify that question with an answer.

_\--_

You are having breakfast with Ratonhnhaké:ton when he suddenly clears his throat. You look up at him, frowning when you notice that he looks like he wants to tell you something. How odd. He is usually silent and quite content to just sit with you during moments like this.

“What is it?”

He leans forward slightly. “I want to teach you how to fight,” he declares in that quiet tone you have grown familiar with. So damned familiar that a day does not feel the same if you do not hear it. When you _finally_ understand his words ( _God damn him and his distracting voice)_ , you jerk your head back. “ _What?_ ” you nearly shriek. _Is he serious?_ “Don’t be daft! You know I’ll just use that knowledge against you,” you retort.

He merely tilts his head in response, but his twinkling blue eyes betray his amusement.

“What’s so funny?” you snarl, trying to ignore the sudden pounding of your heart and completely failing. He looks so serious most of the time that seeing a semblance of joy in that handsome face, even if it is at _your_ expense, makes you lightheaded.

“I am not laughing,” he replies with a quirk on those sinful lips. “I am merely imagining the many ways you could possibly bring me down to my knees.”

“Oh, I’ll bring you down to your knees, all right,” you immediately snap back without thinking. Your eyes widen in shock when you realise the double entendre of your words.

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? I am certain you will succeed,” he says, pleasant and quite innocent, but the way his eyes are gleaming is making you feel uncomfortable.

Uncomfortable in the _titillating_ sense, that is.

 _Damn it._ “Don’t patronise me,” you seethe, but even to your ears your voice lacks heat.

He takes a sip of water, obviously a feeble attempt to hide the grin from his face. “You are very beautiful when you get angry, do you know that?”

You gape at him. The compliment is so sudden your mind blanks out. Your heart, on the other hand, feels like it is almost bursting from your ribcage. “Wh-what?”

He smiles openly now. “Not as beautiful when you are confused, though,” he whispers, almost to himself.

You grip your skirts tightly, cursing at your trembling limbs.If it were another man you would have doubted his sincerity, but everything you have seen of Ratonhnhaké:ton – his actions and his words – everything about him is just so _real_. The more you get to know him, the more you begin to grasp the possibility that you may be completely wrong about your notions of him. _No, he is doing this on purpose! This is exactly why you should resist!_

You allow the words to eat their way through your traitorous heart. You glare at him, paying no attention to your sweaty palms. “Keep your lessons to yourself!” you grit out. “I’d rather die helpless and unarmed than stay here with you!”

The pain that flashes in his eyes may be brief, but so heartbreakingly honest you wish you could take back your words. Guilt flares up inside you and you open your mouth to give your apology when he suddenly stands up. He bows his head, his hood casting cryptic shadows on his normally shining blue eyes. “Excuse me,” he says in a muted voice.

“Rato—” you begin. You shake your head vehemently. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Finish your breakfast and call for Roselyn when you are done,” he continues in that chilly tone. He briskly turns around and leaves.

You stare at his retreating back then look back at his almost untouched food. You feel tears welling up in your eyes and you cover your face with your hands. The guilt that is gnawing inside you is too much.

“My lady? Are you well?”

 _Roselyn._ “W-why… why am I crying?” you blurt out, your words muffled against your hands. You feel downright confused and frustrated at how it actually _hurts_.

Your servant is surprisingly quiet. You wipe your tears and look at her. Her face has an unreadable expression. “Roselyn?”

“It hurts, doesn’t it, to know that you’ve actually _hurt_ him. Swords, muskets, pistols… they’ve all wounded him, but they are nothing against words. _Your_ words,” she sighs.

“I… I didn’t mean to…” you stammer.

“If you didn’t then maybe next time you should think more on your own words before saying them, my lady.”

“I’m just so confused!” you exclaim. The floodgates have opened and there is no way you can shut them now. “I don’t know what to feel about him anymore!”

There is sympathy in her eyes. “Why? Why can’t you just accept the fact that he only wants the best for you?”

“He is still my kidnapper! I… I can’t just accept that!”

“He kidnapped you from a life of misery.” There is no inflection in her words, just a pure matter-of-fact declaration.

“N-no! I didn’t want any of this!” But even as you say those words you feel your iron resolve slowly melting away. The mere fact that it does frightens you so much. “I… I can’t…”

Roselyn shakes her head, a kind smile on her face. “Try seeing him for what he truly is, not for what _you_ want to see, my lady.”

_\--_

To your surprise, Ratonhnhaké:ton still has breakfast with you the next day. You have expected him to ignore you because of your outburst, but… if there is one thing that is truly consistent about him, it’s his ability to turn all your expectations inside out.

“I am leaving for the Atlantic three days from now,” he announces without preamble.

You look up at him, your eyebrows shooting up. “Oh? Are you looking for something?”

“Not quite. We just need to check the security of our trade routes.”

You frown, not seeing the reason why he should personally go to a mission that sounds simple enough. “Then let your people do it.”

His forehead crinkles slightly. “They need someone to lead them.”

“I thought your advisers also served as your aides? Let them do it. You don’t have to constantly go out of your way to guide them.”

He looks at you with that unnerving blue gaze. You feel completely exposed under that stare. “Wh-what are you looking at?” you splutter.

Shockingly, he gives you a smile - a tiny one, but genuine nonetheless. “You have a point. Very well, I will order them to go in my stead.”

You return his smile hesitantly, bewildered that he actually has taken your advice. The quirk on his lips barely changes, but his eyes… dear God. You have never truly believed that the eyes are _“windows of the soul.”_ You think such nonsense is conjured from the minds of overly romantic poets. But now...

He is looking at you like you are the most difficult puzzle he has ever laid his eyes on - the focus, the curiosity, the near frustration at not being able to decipher you right away, but still so, _so_ intent on understanding you.

 _Why?_ Why does he want to understand you when all you have done is insult him? If this is still part of his game, then he must have the patience of a saint and truly, he is anything _but._

He clears his throat, looking away almost bashfully. “There is something I want to give you,” he pronounces, breaking your thoughts.

You blink in confusion. “H-huh?”

He reaches for something on the chair beside him and slowly lifts up a single sheet of paper folded neatly in half. “I… I made this last night.” You start at his uncharacteristic stammer. He stands up and very nearly shoves it to your hands. “I hope you like it.”

Before you can respond, he mutters a hasty “ _Excuse me_ ” before leaving. You sit there completely baffled by the sudden change of his mood. Sighing, you stare at the folded paper on your hands. You open it, half-expecting a letter from him. You vaguely entertain the thought of Ratonhnhaké:ton writing you a love letter and promptly snort. If there is anything you have come to know about him these past few months, it is his attempts to woo you by traditional means almost always ends up in failure.

What you do _not_ expect is an illustration of yourself wearing one of your favourite dresses, sitting on a bench in one of the residence’s inner gardens. With a jolt, you recall exactly when this happened: You were reading one of Voltaire’s works when Ratonhnhaké:ton, on his lonesome, walked by. You remember your eyes meeting and the tilt of his head as he greeted you. It all happened in just a few seconds the memory did not seem significant at all.

Not significant to _you_ , at least.

You attempt to slow down your pounding heart with no success. You then notice something written on the lower right corner of the paper.

_It has been a while since I last drew. Truthfully, I am not sure why I am doing this. It seems rather inane to indulge in such hobbies now given the life we lead. But when I saw you looking quite content reading a book… it has come to me that there is nothing wrong with taking pleasures in doing the simple things._

_Before all of these came to be, I was a warrior. During brief moments of peace I spent the time studying my people and simply illustrating what I saw. It gave me a sense of calm. Focus. A realisation that I could do something_ more _, something that was not due to my violent tendencies._

_Thank you for making me rediscover who I am. You may diminish your importance, but it does not change the fact that you have changed me. ~ R_

You feel your hands starting to shake. You look at his drawing again, gaping at his rough but precise lines.

_“I made this last night.”_

It _finally_ dawns on you that he drew this to calm himself after the fiasco yesterday. _But why draw me?_ He was angry with you; it would make more sense if he drew something else. So, why did he choose to draw _you_?And from a seemingly insignificant memory no less.

 _Oh, God._ You swallow against the painful lump in your throat. A part of you already knows the answer, but you refuse to acknowledge it. You try latching onto the resentment you have worked so hard against him, but in the face of this revelation it seems to crumble into dust.

\--

That night, still overwhelmed with your emotions, you decide to take a walk. You have never really explored much of his dwelling even when he has told you several times that you are free to do so. Perhaps now is the perfect opportunity. A long walk would definitely help you clear your head.

You do not really expect to see him at this time because he is usually occupied with his duties. So you wander around absentmindedly, not even noticing where your legs are taking you until you have arrived at the indoor garden, the same garden where Ratonhnhaké:ton passed by and saw you reading that book.

You recall Roselyn telling you that this was once where Washington kept his wild animals. When Ratonhnhaké:ton seized control he freed the animals and transformed it to this beautiful garden. There is even a small pond at its centre; a handful of lotuses float on it, giving it a vibrant ambience. To his credit none of the plants here are giving you any unfavourable reaction; he had long removed the sources of your allergies.

You head straight towards one of the wooden benches facing the pond when you notice a too-familiar figure. At the far corner of the garden where there are less plants and more room to move about, Ratonhnhaké:ton, wielding a sword, slashes and thrusts into imaginary foes. He is surprisingly very light on his feet as he jumps and turns around to continue his chain of attacks. He is not entirely graceful, though. There is something very primal with his fighting style and the kicks he is throwing are aggressive. Still, despite the wildness of his movements they are very focused; it is almost as if he is fighting against a specific enemy in mind. And judging from how his entire body gleams with his sweat, it looks like he has been doing this for a while now.

You moisten your suddenly dry lips. His only clothing is a pair of dark blue trousers you have never seen before. They form a very snug fit, outlining his muscular thighs perfectly. You unconsciously bite your bottom lip as your gaze lingers on his _very_ noticeable groin area. _I wonder how it looks like when he’s excited,_ you muse before you can catch yourself.

You should feel horrified at the sudden depravity of your thoughts, but – as you continue watching him, enthralled at the way his massive, athletic body moves in exquisite precision – the more your musings head for the worse. You have never given much attention to the ink on his skin, but now they look so captivating. They seem to be faintly glowing with a very soft bluish light, beckoning you to run your tongue along the simple yet beautiful lines

“Have you come to read a book or to watch me?” he suddenly asks, his body still fighting against that unseeable foe.

You feel your face heating up, both at being caught and at the realisation that he does not sound winded at all. _God, he must have a great deal of stamina…_ _I wonder how long he can go… and how fast he can recover._ You feel your mouth drying up again.

You grit your teeth at the steady stream of lewd thoughts that burn your mind. Without responding, you turn around, eager to leave.

“Stay,” he calls out. An _order_.

You clench your fists. Hell would freeze over first before you would follow his command. You start walking away when you hear him sigh in resignation.

“Stay,” he repeats. “ _Please._ ”

No matter how hard you want to avoid it, the softness of his voice melts your resolve. You stop and turn around. He is standing motionless as he gazes at you, the look on his face reminding you of a lost puppy.

“Would you stop that?” you blurt out without thinking.

He blinks. “Pardon?”

“That… that look on your face. It confuses me.”

He tilts his head with a small frown on his forehead. “I am not sure I follow.”

You sigh in exasperation. You might as well be honest with him. “You have this look on your face that reminds me of a puppy, okay? It doesn’t suit you.”

He looks bewildered now. “It does not suit me?”

You shake your head, not wanting to admit that he looks _adorable_ with that sincere bafflement in his face. “You have the look of a brute, Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

He frowns, his broad shoulders sinking slightly.

“I didn’t mean it as an insult!” you continue hurriedly. “I only mean to say that you’re this huge hunk of a man that I can’t accept that you can… look like… a puppy…” you trail off, wincing at your words. You curse inwardly. _That was utterly wretched and stupid_ , you chastise yourself.

He smiles, but it is not out of mockery. “I am flattered.”

Of all the possible responses you expected him to say, this is the furthest thing from your mind. “You think it’s flattery?”

The edges of his smiling mouth twitch, as if he is trying hard not to laugh. He looks away as he gives his sword one final whirl before returning it back to its scabbard. “I do.” He sets it aside and takes a step closer towards you. “I am sorry if my face reminds you of a puppy, I was not aware of that.” His eyes are twinkling with an emotion you cannot describe.

 _My God, he’s so gorgeous._ You feel your knees weakening, and you know it is not only because of lust. Instantly, you are frightened. Lust is something you can comprehend; it is primal, the most basic of human needs. But… _this_? Why are you shaking and sweating at the sight his _smile_? Why is the thought of simply being close to him and laying your head on his shoulder causing your heart to beat so fast you feel almost lightheaded?

“I didn’t know you could also wield the sword,” you stammer, eager to change the subject.

“Not very well, I am afraid,” he says quietly, the smile on his face turning a little embarrassed. The statement is surprisingly self-deprecating. You have always believed that he is confident with his skills. To have him readily admit to _you_ his weakness is almost unbelievable.

“Are you serious? I saw you! You held that sword with the same amount of skill as you wield your tomahawk!” you exclaim.

“That is the problem. My tomahawk is a different weapon and requires a different style. Swordsmanship requires grace and elegance. I lack those qualities.”

You roll your eyes. “What, are you expecting to _dance_ with your sword? Last I heard, you kill your enemies with it, not prance around and impress them with your moves,” you retort, waving your arms dramatically.

His sudden bark of laughter sends a delightful tingling in your body. “You are a strange woman.”

You cannot resist smiling back. “Not as strange as you. You’re the one who thinks you’re not good with the sword when all I can see is a great fighter, possibly the greatest that ever lived.”

He coughs, turning away but not quickly enough. You catch the endearing blush in those cheeks. You feel your own face heating up in response, but the smile on your lips does not go away.

He walks towards one of the benches, beckoning you to join him. You sit daintily on one side, making sure there is enough space between the two of you, even though a part of you is yelling that you sit very, _very_ close to him.

“Thank you,” he says after a moment. “Nobody has really called me that.”

“Who trained you?”

“I…” he trails off. A deep frown mars his forehead. “It is hard to say,” he says slowly.

“You don’t remember?”

He closes his eyes. “I do, but… it seems like it is from a dream I had a long time ago. I am not sure if it really happened.”

You lick your bottom lip as another question turns up in your head. “Do you remember who you were before…? Before you became… you?” Your heart is beating frantically against your chest, nervous and unsure how he would react to the brazenness of your question.

He opens his eyes and looks at you intently. There is no anger in those eyes; if anything, he looks even more uncertain. “I have memories of myself living in a different world where Washington was a leader who never became corrupted. I… helped him. We were even comrades. For a time.”

You frown, not understanding him. “Are you sure these are your memories and not dreams?”

“I am sure, but…” he trails off and looks away. “These memories become more and more distant as time goes by.” His gaze quickly goes back to your face and you are surprised when you see a hint of fear in those eyes. “I am afraid that I will eventually forget them.”

“Why?”

“I fear that once I completely lost my connection to that life, these powers would…” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “They would consume me. Destroy me and everything I hold dear.”

You do not like the sound of resignation in that voice.  “You? The one who defeated Washington and restored peace to this land? I doubt it.”

He smiles wanly. “I am only human.”

“You have the support of the people loyal to you. They will help you if you need it.”

He opens his eyes, that hypnotic blue gaze watching every minute detail of your face. “A ruler should never show weakness.”

You would agree if it were not for the fact that he just confided his fears to you. He, the great Ratonhnhaké:ton, lord and protector of this land, revealed his own weaknesses to _you_.  “You are only human, remember?” you whisper, transfixed by the way he is staring at you.

For a split second, his gaze drops to your lips before he looks straight to your eyes again. “Yes, you are right, my lady,” he says, his voice suddenly husky.

You lick your suddenly dry lips. “My name is…” you give him your name, uncaring that a part of you is still vehemently objecting to it.

He repeats your name slowly, as if testing how it feels in his tongue. He smiles, his stare now unabashedly focused on your lips. “Thank you,” he purrs, a hidden promise entwined in that beautiful voice.

Without thinking, you grab his hand. You shudder when you feel him linking your fingers together. “I… I…” you falter, your gaze darting back and forth from his eyes to his luscious mouth.

“Sshh.” His face is getting closer now. So close you can smell the smoky spicy scent of his skin. So close you can feel his warm breath over your flushed face. _Oh, God._ You can almost taste his lips now.

But then, to your utter disbelief he pulls away and gives you a chaste kiss on your forehead. “W-w-what?” you stammer, stunned.

“Now is not the right time,” he says gently.

 _Not the right time?_ The feeling of disappointment that ignites inside you is so strong you do not even quell the surge of anger and humiliation that go with it. “Are you toying with me?” you snap. You try to pull your hand away but he grips it tighter.

“I am not,” he reassures you, calm. “I simply cannot do this. Not now.” He squeezes your hand once and sits back. There is a mixture of frustration and regret in his features.

You soon forget your annoyance when you hear the misery in that voice. “What’s wrong?”

“I do not think I will be able to control myself once we…” he swallows visibly. “My urges can be overwhelming, especially right after a fight, real or feigned.” He looks at you with a pleading expression. “I do not wish to hurt you.”

Your mouth opens in shock. He could have easily kissed and overwhelmed you at your weakened state. He could have taken you right here, right _now_ when you were very willing. Did he not once tell you that he would not touch you unless you wanted him to? And you _wanted_ him to; you were practically begging for it. But no - he refused to do so because he is terrified that he might hurt you.

_Why do you still think that he is playing with you?_

“Ratonhnhaké:ton…”

He stands up and offers his hand. “Please, allow me to walk with you to your room. That is the least I can do.”

You can do nothing but follow him. Your thoughts are in disarray, even more of a mess than this morning. The walk back to your room is quiet, a shadow of uncertainty trailing both of you.

You turn to him when you arrive by your door. “I…” You are unsure what to say.

He smiles tenderly. The harsh shadows of his face are gone, making him look… young. Naïve. You feel like you can see _him,_ the Ratonhnhaké:ton in that “different life” he mentioned. “T-thank you,” you whisper. With a surge of boldness, you stand on your toes and kiss him gently on the cheek. You see his eyes widening and you quickly avert your gaze as you open the door. You look back at him, smiling shyly. “Good night.”

He mumbles his response and you slowly close the door, revelling at the sight of the deep crimson in his cheeks.


	3. Unleashing The Animal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the (really) porny conclusion. Thank you very much to haytham-senpai for giving me the original prompt. <3 This is the longest of the three. It’s rather dirty, but it’s not quite the dirtiest I’ve written. I think I’ll give the pornings a rest for the moment, though. Our sexy wolf can really tire me out. XD;

The weeks are starting to blur as you get used to routine.

Your day usually starts with one of your servants (usually Roselyn) waking you for breakfast with Ratonhnhaké:ton. The dining table you share is not that big – it can only allow six people at a time – which is a very odd thing to have in a dwelling as big as his. You then to start to notice that despite the vastness of his residence he is surprisingly very practical and even conservative in his tastes. Perhaps the only places that are lavish in design and scope are his bedroom and the baths.

Ah, yes. The baths. You find it curious that your servants always insist in cleaning you every night. You do not mind it much because it comes with a very thorough and relaxing massage, but there is always this odd prickling sensation on the back of your neck when they bathe you.

It feels like you are being _watched_.

You pay it no heed and blame your own paranoia for it. Still, that phantom presence lingers. It should scare you, but you feel comforted instead. You feel _protected_ even. Sometimes, it even makes you feel… eager.

Like now.

The way your servants’ hands are moving on your sensitive skin is slowly driving you mad. It would be so easy to close your eyes and imagine someone else kneading your flesh. _And his hands would feel rough, calloused, and so_ big _, too,_ you think before you can catch yourself.

 _Damn it!_ After what happened in the garden so many weeks ago, the oft-present awareness between the two of you has grown stronger. His presence has become a welcome feeling for you. On most days, it is soothing, but today…

Since this morning when you had breakfast with him this uncontrollable feeling of desire has tormented you. There was something about him that made you completely hypersensitive to his presence, more so than usual. His gaze felt like hot iron brands on your skin and you could have sworn you saw his nostrils flaring a little when he took a deep breath. It was almost like he could _smell_ you.

Your inner thighs clench as you feel an ache too fierce you simply cannot deny yourself anymore. “Leave me,” you rasp.

The women look at each other in confusion, but bow in unison and follow your command. Even Roselyn looks a little bewildered, but she thankfully does not ask anything. She is the last one to leave and gives you a final bow before closing the door.

You quickly get out of the large tub and sit on one edge, opening your legs. You have never really done this before; you have attempted only a single tentative exploration in the past that you swiftly halted without reaching completion, but now… now you feel like you would go insane if you do not do something to alleviate this arousal.

You bite your lip as you circle your middle finger around your clitoris. It feels good, but a part of you wonders how it would feel if it were another person touching you like this. Your eyes close by their own accord, your strokes becoming more confident as you let yourself sink into ecstasy.

 _Touch your breast, show me how you want it_ , a voice whispers in your mind. You moan loudly. It sounds like Ratonhnhaké:ton himself is whispering in your ear. _Lie down on the floor._

You open your eyes, promptly following that command. You stare dreamily at the ceiling as you lie prone on the wet floor. It feels as if the room itself is _breathing_ , surrounding you in its velvety warmth.

You start squeezing your breast, tugging lightly on your nipple, as you continue fondling your sensitive nub.

_Open your legs._

With a hitch on your breath, you obey, uncaring that your legs are indecently wide open. The feeling that something… no, _someone_ is watching you grows stronger and it only spurs you to show more.

You groan at how easily your fingers are gliding across your swollen lips. You ache to feel something inside you, but your inexperience holds you back.

_Use your finger._

“Oh, God…” you whimper as you push your middle finger inside you. It feels strange at first, almost unpleasant, but your mind soon blanks out when you continue fondling your clitoris.

_Yes... very good._

Unbidden, the image of him hovering over you overwhelms your senses. “Ratonhnhaké:ton…” you moan.

You cannot deny yourself this. Not anymore.

You can feel him caressing you, your damp body shaking with each touch of those calloused hands. You can feel him suckling on your hard nipple, his gentle but persistent suction tugging it into his hungry mouth. His hand is now possessively holding your mound, one gentle finger inside you until he slowly pulls it out and slips two inside you with ease. Gasping, you try to fight against this invasion, jerking your hips away. It only makes him draw his fingers away slightly before he plunges them back in. You cry out as he impales you repeatedly, his thumb furiously stroking over your flaring nerve point. You feel no pain; all you feel is a delicious throbbing, the desire to be filled to the brim so great it almost makes you sob.

_Show me._

Your eyes open and you can almost _see_ him: The sensual glow in his blue eyes, the delicious sheen on his full lips, the coiled perfection of his muscles, the sharp veins that run underneath his coffee-coloured skin, the cords of his arm muscles tensing as he works his fingers inside you. Insistent. Unrestrained.

You whimper as you feel your body starting to shake, a slow almost torturous burn pooling deep within you. You spread your legs wider, allowing the fingers working inside you to go even deeper.

 _“Show me_ ,” he growls.

“O-o-oh, G-God…!” You feel yourself getting closer and closer to release, the wild trembling of your muscles becoming more frantic.

_“Come for me.”_

You scream as you feel yourself exploding, your body convulsing at the overwhelming pleasure that you never knew existed. You can see him intently watching you, his other hand furiously working on his length as you come undone. You whimper his name when his handsome face contorts in ecstasy, his voice calling out your name as he comes.

You melt away in bliss, shutting your eyes and half-aware of the soft growls he is making as he milks the rest of his climax. You whisper his name repeatedly, nearly asleep, but you desire to see him one more time before sleep claims you.

Smiling, you slowly open your eyes.

_Idiot!_

There is no one in the room but you. You bite your lip at the sharp and bitter disappointment that cuts through your orgasmic high.

It was only just a fantasy. _Your_ fantasy. The fingers that are deep inside you are _yours_ and you quickly take them out. The shame that fills you is unbearable but even more stifling is the realisation that everything about your fantasy felt too real. His voice, his actions, even his _smell_ … the fragrance of wood and campfire almost overpowered by the strong natural scent of his skin.

 _God_.

You stand up, wobbling a little. You hop back into the water, wincing at how cold the water feels now. “This never happened, you hear me?” you whisper.

_\--_

Ratonhnhaké:ton looks at his spent cock and gives it a final tug before collapsing on his chair. The Apple flickers as the image of her sitting alone in the tub fades.

He stares at the mirror in front of him. His own reflection taunts at him – utterly nude and debauched, his essence splattered all over his abdomen. _You could be looking at her reflection riding you if you would only demand her submission,_ a dark voice hisses inside him.

He wills the voice to go away. “No. I will not.” To give in to his lust now would be foolish. He has gone this far and he will not allow his desires to bring down the still shaky trust he has painstakingly established with her. He _must_ be patient. He _must_ learn how to tame his beast. If he leaps now she would flee and be completely lost to him forever. Just because she screamed his name while in the midst of orgasm does not mean he must hasten the opportunity.

He feels himself hardening _again_ and curses. “This is the fifth time today,” he murmurs, a rebuke to himself. His urges have become more intense ever since that night. Who would have thought that unburdening himself to the woman that has consumed his thoughts would make his feelings grow stronger? That it would strengthen his lust to the point that he has to stimulate himself several times a day just to keep his beast sated?

Today was especially difficult. When they had breakfast this morning it took all of his self-control to remain seated when every inch of his body yearned to take her on the table right then. His lust was so overpowering his senses felt inundated _._ His eyes followed her every move, seeing even the way her chest rose and fell as she breathed. Her feminine voice sounded slightly deeper with a seductive throaty nuance that heated up his ears, making him wish he could hear how she sounded like when unfettered with desire. He wondered how her skin would taste like, if she would whimper brokenly or demand that he _marked_ her. He would not only leave love bites on her, his hands would also leave imprints; he would be unable to stop touching her, squeezing and fondling every inch of her body. And her scent… he tugs at his re-awakening erection again. He did not even need to be close to her to smell how aroused she was. Aroused _for him._

At first he thought she was simply reacting to his presence, but the more he became excited, the stronger her scent was. It was almost as if she was subconsciously reacting to him. If it were not for his servants’ timely arrival, nothing would have prevented him. He would have raised her skirts and opened her legs, buried his face on her to take a deeper whiff of that addictive fragrance… and he was certain he would have easily climaxed without even touching himself.

That is enough to give him some cause for concern. A part of him is alarmed at how much he desires this woman. Lust is not a new thing for him; since he communed with the animal spirits his libido felt more potent than ever. He yearned badly to mate, but something was holding him back. His advisers, thoroughly aware of his desires, attempted to “gift” him with women, both pure and promiscuous, but he turned them away. He did not want any of them. They all felt wrong.

Without an outlet for his burgeoning desires, he turned to violence instead. Fortunately for him, there was no shortage of lawbreakers and rebels to kill. He felt especially compelled to kill villains who abused innocents. _His_ people.

That was when he first saw her. The corpses of her family lay strewn around her and she was barely breathing. That alone would have spurred him to action, but when he saw one of the vile men removing his trousers while his friends looked on and yelled their encouragement, blood rage utterly filled him. Two of his friends were dismembered before they even knew of his presence. The remaining three did not even have the chance to get their muskets as he tore through them, their screams of fear and pain making him angrier. Fear and pain was something he associated with humans, not with disgusting filth that did not deserve to live.

When he finally turned to the last man, he nearly laughed when he saw him cowering in fear and begging for his life. Ratonhnhaké:ton liked to believe that he was a fair-minded ruler. He always made sure to grant some clemency to those who deserved it.

This foul creature, on the other hand…

He wasted no time in cutting off the man’s genitals, savouring his screams of pain. He ignored the man’s pleas to end his life as he dragged him by the leg to where he knew wolves regularly assembled to hunt for food. He walked away, leaving the man lying in his own pool of blood, smiling serenely at his screams of terror as the hungry growling of the wolves became louder.

As he came back to check on the unconscious woman, his sense of calm was shattered when he pushed her hair back to look at her face. He knew her. He had never seen her before, but he _knew_.

He had found his mate.

She felt right. _Perfect._ Even before he took her gently in his arms, he knew she was right for him. And if she believed that he was not the man for her, he would do anything to make her see the truth. He just needed patience, all the more now that he can feel himself getting closer to her sweet surrender.

 _You will go insane if you continue with this,_ that dark voice scoffs.

“I will not demand her submission,” he says loudly, narrowing his eyes at his reflection. If he were to make her submit to him, he would only do so if she _wants_ it. And something tells him that she would be quite willing to indulge in his fantasies.

He can hear that dark voice humming in approval. He smirks at his own reflection. _Imagine making love to her while looking at yourself._ He licks his lips, an idea forming in his head. “A room full of mirrors… yes.”

He tugs at his re-awakening cock and wills it to relax. When she finally yields… oh, _yes._ He gives his own reflection a slow, wicked smile. He will have her, slowly but repeatedly. And then when he awakens that side in her… then and only then will he show her how depraved he can really be.

_\--_

Weeks roll by then before you know it half a year has passed. You realise that you have come to terms with your fate. The life you lead now _is_ better. Here, you are treated with respect. You are well cared for and you are even treated like a queen. His _queen, remember? The queen to the most powerful man in the world_. _Don’t you want to feel that power inside you?_

“Stop it,” you say through gritted teeth.

_Why do you keep resisting? Why do you still want to dance around the fact that you both want each other? Face the truth! Your dreams speak volumes of your hunger for him._

“Shut up,” you mutter, wishing you could hit your head and silence that infuriating voice.

The dreams. Dear God, your _accursed_ dreams. They all started after your moment of weakness in the baths. You wake up in the middle of almost every night, sweaty and shivering with want, the haunting images of you and him locked together in the most erotic positions lingering in your conscious mind. Even now, just thinking about them sends a frisson of lust that makes your body tremble and your knees weak.

But one dream in particular is seared forever in your mind for how exceptionally explicit and detailed it was _:_ He was sitting on his throne and you were kneeling down in front of him like the good loyal subject that you were. It looked like you were in the middle of an important ceremony with nearly everyone from the colonies attending and watching you.

But what ceremony was this – to have him fully clothed save for his trousers that were partly pulled down, his handsome face frozen in a rictus of violent pleasure as you heatedly work your mouth and tongue on his rigid length; to have him pant heavily, the words that fell from his lips becoming dirtier, while you moaned with your mouth full of him, on the precipice of your own completion; and to have the people watching you, _applauding_ when he finally came with a roar and you consumed everything he had to offer, whimpering as you climaxed on your own without touching yourself.

Your own wail of pleasure woke you up and you let out muffled sobs as you rode your own orgasm. It was frightening, to come so strongly in your sleep without any external stimuli and yet…! You were bitterly disappointed when you did not experience the same dream the next night… and the nights after.

You wanted it to happen again. And you are _still_ waiting for it.

 _Why wait for a dream to happen when you can make it_ real _?_

You stand up suddenly, cursing at your shaking knees. You toss the forgotten book on the floor, desperate to leave the room and clear your thoughts.

\--

You are walking by the grand hallway when you hear voices from the floor below.  Ratonhnhaké:ton must be having a talk with his advisers. You quickly hide amongst the shadows and situate yourself in a corner that gives you the best vantage point of the throne room.

Ratonhnhaké:ton is sitting on his throne, his chin resting on one hand. Every once in a while his thumb and forefinger would lightly pinch and pull his bottom lip, a habit that seems to be more pronounced when he is in deep thought. He is completely silent as he listens: Updates on the remainder of Washington’s men lurking just outside the colonies, keeping the faith of the common folk remained on him and his rule, ensuring peace, securing trade routes, maintaining the economy, potential pirates lurking on the Atlantic…

It goes on and _on_.

All of this talk is a lot to take in and you wonder how Ratonhnhaké:ton can handle that flood of information. He may be powerful, but his power has always been his _physical_ strength. One look at that physique would be enough to convince anyone that his power comes from his body, not the mind.

Then it hits you: He would not have been a leader at all had he not possessed a brilliant mind. He may have advisers, but it is still _his decisions_ that affected the land. You remember one incident where, instead of ordering his men to hunt and kill all of the rebels, he ordered them to infiltrate their ranks instead. One by one, his men turned the rebels until they finally conspired against their own leaders. Not only did Ratonhnhaké:ton wipe out any remaining major rebellion against his rule, he was also able to gain more men to his side.

It is one testament of many to the strategic, almost ruthless genius that lurks within that mind. When he finally breaks his silence to give out his orders in that very calm but authoritative voice, you bite your lip at the sudden torrent of desire surging through you. Your lustful dreams come back to you in full force.

_How can you still resist?_

You curse inwardly. Now your thoughts sound like the voices of his advisers. His “Brotherhood,” as he calls it, though one of his advisers is a woman.

Dobby Carter. That is her name. The woman who is now standing too close to him. You narrow your eyes when Dobby places a hand on his arm. To your utter surprise, she comes even closer to whisper something to his ear. When she pulls away, their gazes lock. He meets her gaze boldly, narrowing his eyes as he scrutinises her. It is only for a few seconds, but it feels longer for you. He leans towards her, his mouth almost brushing her ear. The action is unexpectedly personal, something that you would expect from lovers who are intimately familiar with each other, not from a ruler and his “lowly” adviser.

Your mind blanks out as the sudden feelings of confusion and insecurity engulf your entire being. _W-what… why… are they…?_

Then all your confusion disappears, leaving behind jealousy so strong you nearly scream your rage. _How dare he! What is the point of courting me then? To turn me into a submissive wench that he can satisfy himself with anytime he wishes?_

You take a step back, accidentally bumping into a vase in your haste. It shatters on the ground, its ear-piercing sound resonating all over the chamber. You quickly run back to your room, unconcerned that they have likely caught your presence. The anger you are feeling is asphyxiating you, blinding you to all other concerns.

When you arrive in your room, you slam the door and lock it. You walk back and forth, your body shaking, until you cannot take it anymore. You let out a shriek of pure outrage, but it is not enough. Wildly, your eyes scan across the room. The urge to destroy _something_ is bursting inside you.

Your gaze suddenly locks on to the piece of paper lying on top of your books. You narrow his eyes.

His drawing.

The one thing that made you believe that he was completely sincere with his intentions.

The one thing that made you realise that you were falling in love with him.

_And it was all a lie!_

With another scream of indignation, you snatch it, eager to destroy it forever. Before you can do any harm to it, however, the door bursts open, the lock breaking free and nearly ruining the door itself.

“What is this foolishness?” Ratonhnhaké:ton roars. His face is a potent mixture of fury and concern.

Without even missing a beat, you tear the paper in half. His mouth opens wide in shock and confusion for a brief moment before pain completely clouds his handsome face.

In a rush of fierce dismay you realise that this is the greatest insult you have ever done to him and it is too late to take it all back. But instead of apologising, you let pride and your own anger control you.

You let the pieces of torn paper drop on the floor. “Oh, was that drawing that important for you, _Ratonhnhaké:ton_?” you hiss his name with contempt.

All of your anger drains away as you are shocked into stillness by the way the misery on his face disappears. He now looks utterly enraged, his expression so far removed from all the emotions you have seen on his face that you can hardly believe he is the same person you have fallen in love with.

“ _Why._ ”

Even he sounds different. His voice is very cold, chilling the blood in your veins. There is no hint of that soft and pleasant timbre that you have grown to love. It is as if you have unleashed something very dark and terrible in him. Terror fills you then, but you hold your ground. “ _You_ tell me why, _Your Highness,”_ you spat. “Why all this charade of trying to woo me, hmm, when you already have your own bitch?”

The anger in his eyes fades somewhat. “What are you talking about?”

You laugh mockingly. “Maybe you’ll understand this better: Your own _whore_ , _Your Highness_. If you are keeping me here simply because you want some variety in your _diet_ , then keep me out of it!”

The confusion in his face looks sincere. You almost believe that he is completely innocent, but you know it is all just an act. “I do not understand what you are—”

“You and your Dobby Carter, _Highness_. I will not play second fiddle to her or to anyone.”

He jerks his head back, eyes completely wide. He looks like himself now. “ _What?_ ”

You sneer. “Spare me the innocence! I saw both of you! What kind of ‘adviser’ is she, huh? When she could stand so close to you she could probably smell you?”

The gamut of emotions that colours his face is amazing: From confusion to astonishment, to wide-eyed revelation and comprehension. There is a very faint crimson hue on his cheeks. He quickly covers his mouth with a hand, but the twinkling in those eyes tells you everything. “You are jealous,” he says, his voice muffled against his hand.

“Jealous? _Jealous?_ I am _not_!” you shriek even as you feel his words ringing true. “I simply refuse to be part of your games any longer!”

He removes his hand, revealing his smile. There is no hint of ridicule in those lips. If anything, that smile is a _relieved_ one. “There are no games, my Queen,” he says.

If your heart would beat any harder than it is now, it would have leapt out of your chest. “Q-Queen?”

“ _My_ Queen,” he repeats in a low voice. He takes one step closer and you instinctively move back. “There is no one but you. Dobby is an adviser and nothing more.”

You shake your head vehemently. “But you were whispering at each other’s ears and she was standing close to you!”

The look on his face is patient, but very fond. It nearly melts your resolve. “That is how a person would generally whisper their message to another, yes.”

You glare at him, frustrated that he does not seem to be affected by your outburst at all. “What did she even tell you that the others shouldn’t hear, huh? _I want you_? _Make love to me_?”

One corner of his mouth twitches. “No. She was merely relaying her pregnancy.”

“What?”

He lightly taps your chin with his forefinger. He grins. And just like that, all your stubbornness evaporates. He squeezes your chin affectionately. “She is pregnant. Expecting. With child.”

You make a face at him. “Yes, I do know what pregnancy means, thank you.”

He closes in the remaining gap between the two of you and grasps your elbows gently. “So there is no reason to feel jealous. You are my consort. Even if my lordship ends tomorrow, you will still be my Queen.”

“Stop it,” you croak, your knees feeling wobbly. In fact, you are convinced that they _have_ turned into jelly by the way you collapse against him. You lay your head on his shoulder, wishing that you would feel his bare skin instead of the heavy bear cloak draped over it. “You sound like you’re reading off from a clichéd romance novel.”

He chuckles and wraps his arms around you, holding you tighter. “I try my best,” he jests.

You giggle and let out a pleased sigh. _Finally._ No more denials. No more doubts. You _want_ to be his mate, for better or worse. And with this revelation, you know his feelings for you are unquestionable.

You are about to sink deeper into his embrace when you notice the pieces of torn paper on the floor. Shame overcomes your elation and you push him away. Tears form in your eyes unexpectedly.

He looks at you with alarm. “Are you all right?” he asks, a panicky tone in his voice.

“Y-your d-drawing… I’m so s-sorry…” you waver. Your shoulders are shaking. “I-I didn’t mean to… oh, God… I’m so sorry…”

The smile he gives you is too kind. Rather than comfort you, it only makes you feel worse. You let out a hitching sob and try pushing him away, but he holds you firm against him. He kisses your forehead. “Do not concern yourself with that. I can make more,” he reassures.

“But it was meaningful for you… for me. It made me realise that I...” you trail off and bury your face against his neck. “It made me realise my feelings for you,” you finish, your words muffled.

You feel his body tensing, but only for the brief moment. You feel, rather than hear, his contented sigh. “And I am glad for that.” He pulls back to look at your face. “I will piece them back together then.”

Your eyes widen. “What? B-but—” He puts a finger on top of your lips, silencing you. “Do not concern yourself with that,” he repeats under his breath. He brushes away the few tears that have fallen on your cheeks.

Without thinking, you surge towards him, pressing your lips on his. You only mean it as a kiss of gratitude, but when you pull away, his eyes are blazing with a hunger that almost frightens you with its intensity. He grits his teeth, his powerful body shaking like a leaf as if he is trying with all his might to restrain himself.

“Ratonhnhaké:ton…”

He groans and pulls you in tighter, lifting you easily until your toes barely touch the ground. You moan his name again, already intoxicated with him. “Please,” you sigh. You can barely breathe as his face flushes with desire.

But just as you expect him to finally capture your mouth in a bruising kiss, a loud and breathy gasp of surprise breaks the heavy cloud of desire that consumes you both.

“O-o-oh! I didn’t mean to—I’m so sorry! I will leave now!”

He looks furious at first, but when he focuses on your eyes the anger disappears. Sighing, he gives you a rueful smile. “Roselyn,” he calls out. He gently sets you back on the ground and turns around.

Your servant freezes by the doorway, a look of absolute terror written on her face.

You have forgotten that the door to your room is still wide open and barely latching on to its hinges when Ratonhnhaké:ton kicked it open several minutes ago. You give her reassuring smile. In a way, it is a blessing in disguise that she interrupted you before things became more heated.

“There is no need for an apology, Roselyn.” He looks back at you, his smouldering stare sending delicious shivers of anticipation racing over your skin. “Please prepare a nice warm bath for your Lady, but leave afterwards.” He licks his bottom lip as he glances at your mouth. “I intend to join her.”

\--

Nervous anticipation. You felt it the first time they bathed you, but instead of indignation obscuring it you now feel liberated. You cannot help but smile at the irony. When you came to this place, all you demanded was your freedom. You were so convinced that he was your kidnapper that it nearly blinded you from the fact that he had already freed you from the shackles of your previous life.

You step inside the pool of warm water, murmuring your gratitude to your servants who assist you. Immediately, a spicy-sweet exotic scent assaults your senses. It is unfamiliar to you, but you find it very pleasant. As you sit back with a sigh, they silently step away and quickly leave the room, except for Roselyn who hands you a bottle of massage oil. “Just in case you need a more personal touch,” she whispers, giving you a wink before exiting.

You open the bottle; the scent is the same. You smile as you remember her words. _A more personal touch, eh?_  Your servant gave you a separate bottle just in case you plan to give him a sensual massage. It is almost as if she assumed that you and Ratonhnhaké:ton would spend a _lot_ of time alone. _How thoughtful._ You giggle in delight, excited of this possibility. You make a mental note to thank Roselyn the next time you see her. _Whenever that may be_ , you add cheekily.

The door opens, interrupting your thoughts. Ratonhnhaké:ton stands by the doorway, nude except for the small piece of white cloth wrapped around his waist. His hair is untied, but swept back, leaving a few stray hairs framing his face. He stares at you with his lips half-opened, eyes blazing and body taut with a dark and sensual promise.He steps inside and closes the door behind him. Your gaze immediately drops down to the very prominent bulge in between his thighs, the cloth covering it almost straining to keep it hidden.

You watch as he struts towards you, moaning a little as you take the time to appreciate the way he moves. Smooth and quiet as silk, and yet within those limbs lie a ferocity, a capacity to utterly destroy you. It should fill you with unease, but no - you want him to hurt you in the most delightful way possible. Goose shivers form all over your body, your nipples tightening at thought of him biting you _everywhere_ , leaving love marks that will not easily fade away.

He calls your name, his voice smoother than velvet. Another violent shudder goes through you and your legs unconsciously open wider, hips bucking a little towards him. _God._ All needs to do is call you in _that_ voice and you _burn_ to have him inside you.

Not breaking his gaze, he licks his lips and slowly unwraps the cloth around his waist. You feel as if air has been knocked out of you as his erection springs free. You can only manage a breathy “O-o-oh…!” while you run your hungry gaze along his manhood.

His cock is not abnormally long, but his girth gives you some pause. _It might be a tight fit,_ a voice inside you muses. Instead of frightening you, it inflames you all the more. You barely notice as he continues his pace towards you; your gaze is focused on his impressive length, its dark swollen head glistening with want. His body looks like it is carved out from the most indecent fantasy, as if its only purpose is to give the most unimaginable pleasures to a woman. “Damn,” you whimper, unbelieving that this man is now yours.

He then steps inside the tub and sits right across you. He groans as the warm water envelopes him, but his gaze does not falter. He continues looking at you as if challenging you. Your limbs tremble with the impulse to throw yourself at him, but something tells you that he wants to be in charge tonight.

He smiles and licks his lips in approval at your inaction. “Turn around,” he purrs.

You quickly follow his command. You hear the water sloshing as he saunters closer toward you. His slick hands grasp your shoulders, his touch gentle, but the hidden strength in those hands is unmistakable.

Tenderly, he pushes you back towards him, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. You turn your face towards him, your mouth drying at the sight of his full lips. Unable to stop yourself, you kiss his chin repeatedly, drawing the tip of your tongue along his strong jawline, purring at the rough feel of the beginnings of a stubble. He moans, a soft plea for you to do more.

You turn around in one fluid motion, gently rocking your hips against the delicious hardness of his groin. He whimpers, his moist lips parting. His mouth always looks so tempting; it looks so soft and luscious, making you wonder how it would feel like on the most sensitive parts of your body.

The kiss is a little timid at first, his lips teasing yours until they feel swollen. You moan, partly in protest. You grasp the back of his head to pull him closer, your other arm wrapping tightly around his shoulders, fingers splayed and scratching lightly over the shifting planes of his very muscular back.

He groans and pulls you tighter against him. Your eyes briefly open wide in shock when you feel his hardness twitching against your belly. Your body arches towards him, his every movement like a shock of electricity on your skin. He is a perfect dream made real: He feels so warm, so _right_ , his body trembling with a promise that is so close to completion.

You press yourself harder against him, kissing him with the full force of your desire. You want him so much. You _need_ him to claim you, to devour your very essence until you are left with nothing but the hum of exquisite pleasure exuding from every pore of your body.

He tears his mouth away from yours, perfect teeth nipping your bottom lip. “If you do not stop, I might…” He grits his teeth, his breaths coming in faster. “I might f-finish… s-soon.”

You moan throatily in reply, revelling at the way his breath hitches. The very idea of seeing him reach completion before you sends a delicious heat suffusing your entire body. You want to see more. You want to _do_ more.

You suddenly remember _that_ dream, the one that made you climax with such force you woke up, shocked at the fierceness of your own orgasm.

“Please…” you whimper. “I want…”

He lightly but repeatedly grazes his fingers over your nipples, the softest hint of his fingernails on your sensitive peaks making you cry out his name softly. “What do you want? Tell me.”

“I… I…” you stammer, unsure how to word it right.

“Tell me,” he growls so close against your ear, the tip of his tongue tracing along the very sensitive shell.

“I want to p-put my mouth o-on you…”

You feel his body shuddering violently and the moan that escapes his mouth resonates all over the chamber. “Do not test me,” he groans, shutting his eyes.

“I’m not,” you whisper, astonished at the intensity of his reaction over your words.

You hardly think it possible, but his eyes have grown even darker, his pupils blown and nearly engulfing the extraordinary colour of his irises. “Are you certain?” he asks in an almost broken voice.

 

“I… really want to taste you…” You bite your bottom lip and look at him through your eyelashes. “Please…”

He groans a few words in his native language and pulls away. He stands up and motions you to follow. “My room,” he says in a rough voice.

Thankfully, the baths have a door connected to his room, so you do not need to get the robes provided for both of you. You quickly snatch the massage oil Roselyn provided for you and follow him hurriedly.

When you arrive in his room, you only have a few seconds to admire the impressive size of it; Ratonhnhaké:ton turns around and grabs your right hand, pulling you closer to his massive bed. He sits down near the edge, still holding your hand. You watch with heavy-lidded eyes as he kisses it repeatedly, affectionately. When he reaches your fingers, he opens his mouth and takes your middle finger in between his lips

You moan as he starts to move it back and forth. His stare is scorching as he licks and sucks your finger, painfully slow but the force is enough to curl your toes. _Why is he…? Oh!_ You finally comprehend that he is doing this to show you what he wants. With a smile, you kneel down in between his legs, adding a second finger inside that sinful mouth of his.

You lean forward, rubbing your nose against his jawline. “You smell so good, my King,” you purr against the sensitive spot just underneath his ear. Indeed, this close to him you can still smell the traces of sweat on his skin despite the strong scent of the oil from the baths. Normally, you find a man’s perspiration deplorable, but there is something about his odour that arouses you so much. Just the thought of him being drenched with sweat is enough to send lust flaring in your belly.

Unhurriedly, you trace your lips and tongue along his neck down to his collarbone. You take out your fingers from his mouth and graze them along his torso, a delighted shiver running through you as you feel his smooth but hard abdomen.

You continue your descent, licking the cleft in between his pectorals and moving ever so closely to his nipples. You smile when you feel him holding his breath. Instead of taking that enticing dark bud in between your lips, you nip on his side, leading your lips ever so closely towards the hollow under his arm.

He surprises you when he jerks away from you slightly. “Ticklish?” you ask sweetly and nip him again. He rewards you with a burst of laughter. It gives you a strange thrill, as if something rare and wonderful is unravelling right before your eyes. Indeed, Ratonhnhaké:ton’s smiles are unusual and his laughter is even more so.

“I love your laugh.” You sigh happily as the warmth that glows deep inside your heart spreads, momentarily making you forget the intense desire you feel for him. To have him show you this side is truly the best gift that he can ever give you. Unable to resist, you give him a peck on the tip of his nose. You giggle when he scrunches his face slightly in response. “I wonder if you are ticklish everywhere else,” you remark with a mischievous grin.

“You are welcome to search and explore every inch of my body,” he quips. “But first…” He coughs and jerks his head towards his lap. “I believe you have something for me?” he asks almost shyly.

You pinch him lightly on his side, giggling at his yelp of protest. “Yes, I do, my Lord.” You resume your teasing, mouthing hotly against his pectorals, kissing and nipping the sensitive peaks. You scratch your fingers lightly on his abdomen, mindful that your nails are rather long.

He growls your name softly. You briefly look at his face. He is biting his lip, his forehead crinkled in a deep frown. “Is this… okay?” you ask hesitantly.

“…Do it harder.”

You blink in confusion for a moment. “A-are you sure? My nails are—”

“ _Harder_ , my love,” he repeats. He sounds desperate.

 _Oh! Oh, my…_ Looks like Ratonhnhaké:ton has a taste for some pain. You give him your sweetest smile before drawing your nails against the smooth skin of his abdomen. He groans in approval. “Harder,” he grunts.

“Does my Lord want me to mark him?” you ask, a very pleasant tone in you voice. You may as well be asking him how the weather is like today.

He replies with an unintelligible grunt. It is enough for you. You bite lightly on his nipple just as you scrape your nails harder, enough to leave red lines on his skin. His hips jerk upwards in invitation and the moan that comes out from his throat is unlike anything you have heard of before. His voice is slightly higher-pitched. Breathy. _Pleading_.

You trail both of your hands on his flanks. He arches his hips again, his buttocks rising from the bed long enough so you can grab hold of the firm flesh. You feel the muscles tensing when you squeeze them.

An idea crosses your mind. You initially planned to please him with your mouth with him sitting down in a perfect copy of your dream, but this new idea seems more exciting. “Stand up.”

He readily complies your request. You sit down on the spot where he was. You smile. The height of the bed is perfect; your face is on level with his groin area, his beautiful hard cock so near to your mouth. You watch in fascination as the tip glistens with his need. Unable to control yourself you kiss it, flicking your tongue lightly against the smooth head.

He moans in approval and runs a thumb across your lips. “More.”

You grasp his manhood, loving its texture and the way it fills out in your hand. Closing your eyes, you shower it with tiny but adoring kisses, following and tracing its shape with much reverence. The whimpers he is making are faint, but they spur you to do more.

You focus now on the underside, tracing the flat of your tongue against his length until you reach the firm tissue just below the dark plump head. Curious, you give it an experimental lick.

You feel his erection twitching. “Yes, there,” he husks.

Smiling inwardly, you flick your tongue over it repeatedly, alternating with gentle kisses. You take your time; the sounds that come out from Ratonhnhaké:ton’s throat are getting impatient and progressively heated, but you want to take it slow. You want to stretch him to his limits; you want to see him completely unfurl in front of you.

\--

Ratonhnhaké:ton is panting heavily, almost at his wit’s end. She has not even done more than grazing her wicked tongue along his erection and he already feels like he is going to come soon. Very soon.

When she takes the fleshy head inside her mouth, he very nearly shoves his entire length inside that tempting heat. He shuts his eyes and tries to concentrate, but his attempts to centre himself vanish when he feels her sucking him in earnest. Her mouth is so hot, so eager to please him, rendering him powerless and unable stop the thrusting of his hips. He is vaguely aware of his hands grabbing fistfuls of her hair, controlling her motions. He wants nothing more but to bury himself inside that warm and wet suction of her mouth, so deep that when he comes she would have no choice but to swallow his essence.

 _Stop!_ He groans loudly. The beast inside him is taking control. _Focus!_ _Do not force her!_ He will die first before he lets it take over on their first night and risk frightening her. Taking deep breaths, he unclenches his fists on her hair and drops them to his sides. He bites his bottom lip, willing his hips to slow down.

But how long will he be able to keep the beast in control when he is very close?

“Ratonhnhaké:ton…” she calls out.

He tries not to groan at the way she calls his name. Her voice is like a siren song, drawing him ever closer to his own doom. And it is a doom that he would gladly get lost forever into. She can break him apart, his whole world falling out and plunging into an abyss, and not only would he welcome it, he would _seek_ for it. He wants her to completely destroy him, over and over again.

With a sultry glint in those enchanting eyes, she engulfs him again, but now she does not hesitate: With a deep breath, she takes him in further, deeper, until her beautiful mouth is stretched wide around his hardness and he can feel her fluttering around him.

He chokes her name, completely overwhelmed by the sensations of her throat around him. Desperately, he looks down, half-mad and anxious for her to stop. Her eyes are shut, those long eyelashes dark against her flushed cheeks. Her eyebrows are knitted into a tight frown; she looks focused, _determined_ to please him in any way she can.

_Oh, Maker. I do not think I can…_

She opens her eyes and looks up at him through her eyelashes, lips red and swollen.

He feels the beast inside him spurring and growing wilder. He gasps her name again, begging now. “Please… d-do not f-force y-yourself…”

She releases him in one smooth motion, coughing a little as she gasps for air. She looks at him with affection and gives his erection a tender kiss. “I love how you taste like.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton feels something inside him snap. Now, more than ever, he wants to show the world that this woman is his Queen. He wants his entire dwelling tremble at the sheer ecstasy of her pleasured cries. He wants everyone to know that she is his and his _alone_ , and he will mark her if need be.

He takes her by surprise when he deftly pushes her to the bed. She tries to sit up, but he pushes her back again. “I am in control now,” he growls.

She gasps, the flush in her face and body turning darker. Her legs open wide in invitation, but he pays it no need. For the moment.

“Turn around. Lie on your stomach.”

She obeys, presenting her very round and firm behind to his hungry gaze. He takes the massage oil placed haphazardly on one side of the bed. He remembers what he thought about when he first watched her, and he intends to make it real.

He applies the oil on his hands, rubbing them to make them warm. He has never done this before, but he has seen how his servants did such service to her. He smirks and makes a mental note. From now on, he will be the only one to do this to her.

He straddles the sides of her hips, his cock pressing intimately against her buttocks. The sight stirs his beast all the more, but he commands it to be patient. As soon as he places his hands on her shoulders, she moans his name and pushes her behind closer to him, nearly undoing his resolve.

“Do not move,” he hisses, “or this will end sooner for the both of us.”

He feels her shudder. “Y-yes, m-my Lord.”

He smiles, leaning forward briefly to kiss the back of her neck. “Good.” He runs his hands across her back, spreading the oil over her skin. When he is certain that he has not left an area untouched, he begins to knead the back of her shoulders, languidly but firmly working on the tight knots. He feels her tensing at the short burst of pain, but as her muscles relax her body feels more pliant.

He moves on to her neck and the back of her head, gently kneading them with his thumbs, before moving downward, each part of her back receiving the same amount of care and attention. When he nears her buttocks, he simply ignores it, moving down to the back of her thighs and legs. He is rewarded with a groan of protest.

“I think you forgot something,” she whines, arching her rear higher in invitation, unmindful just how much this sight drives him crazy.

He gives it a slap and she yelps – not in pain, but in delight. He wills himself to calm down again. “Patience,” he says firmly, though the statement is more for himself.

He takes his time massaging her shapely limbs, his fingers delving so close to her rump. The moans she is making heats up the fire in his blood all the more, but he wants her louder. Needier.

Without warning, he grabs the fleshy globes of her bottom. He squeezes them, rubbing the firm skin, carnal amazement racing through him at how supple it feels. Both of his thumbs dip on that tempting crevasse, and he groans when he hears her whimper.

“Do you like that?”

“Y-y-yes…”

He licks his bottom lip in anticipation. _Yes._ This is exactly where he wants her to be. “Kneel, but keep your head low.”

She follows his command quietly. She wraps her arms around the pillow, partly supporting herself. With this position, her backside is presented to him, welcoming him to do anything he wants with it.

He leans down and brings his face closer to her. This close, her scent is much stronger and overwhelming, but it is not enough for him. Clasping his hands on her lower back, he pulls her roughly towards him, pressing his face tight against her quivering flesh. He takes a deep whiff, groaning loudly at the way her tangy scent incites every nerve on his body. He feels another gush of his pre-ejaculate; he is _so_ tempted to touch and bring himself to completion while smelling her like this, but he yearns to finish inside her.

He straightens a little and drags his nails lightly across her buttocks. Very gently, he places his thumbs near the cleft again and spreads the flesh apart, revealing her hidden opening. He hears her gasp of surprise. He watches with fascination as the soft pucker of skin twitches slightly.

“W-w-what are you d-doing…?”

“Ssshh. I am not going to hurt you.” He continues watching it, entranced. He has fantasised doing so many things to her… and that includes taking her in this most unconventional manner. His cock twitches at the idea. How mind-blowing would it be to take her in _every_ possible way?

He bites his bottom lip and squeezes the base of his length. _Not now._ There is a right time for that.

He straightens up and presses his hardness against her sex. He adjusts himself and slowly pushes his tip inside, not deep enough to hurt. “Do you wish me to take you in this position?” he purrs. He badly wants to take her this way; he wants her helpless as he pounds mercilessly into her. But in the end – even if all of his animalistic urges insist on fully dominating her – the decision is still hers. He _will_ have his time; he knows it.

“I-I wish to see your face… once w-we do this…” she sighs.

He smiles. “Very well.” He takes the space beside her. “Sit on me.”

Her eyes widen. “But… I thought we’d do this with you above me…?”

“It is your first time.” He grabs her hand and pulls her closer. “You should be the one in control.”

“O-oh!” She smiles, pleased, her face glowing with adoration, causing his rapidly beating heart to skip with soul-consuming love. _Beautiful._ No, she is more than beautiful. She is headstrong and difficult, frustrating at times, but she is beyond compare. She is a goddess, able to bring him to his knees with a simple smile.

He relaxes as she climbs on him, and places his hands gently on the curve of her hips. She looks uncertain as she hovers over him. “H-how…?”

With one hand, he directs the tip of his length to her softness. She bites her lip as he gently circles the plump head around her flesh. “Slowly,” he murmurs.

He keeps still as she very slowly descends on him. He grits his teeth when he feels her velvety warmth surrounding him. “Perfect…” he groans. He may be the one penetrating her, but he feels like she is the one slipping inside him. Unfurling him wide open. Taking everything that he has to offer.

He moans her name as he feels her tightness. He quickly gazes at her face. Her eyes are screwed shut. She is feeling some pain; he knows his girth is stretching her beyond that is comfortable, but he is determined to make this most pleasurable for her.

He removes one hand from her hip and rubs the too-sensitive apex of her womanhood. Her reaction is immediate: She moans his name loudly and with one smooth stroke, she takes nearly his entire length inside her. He yells as his body surges upwards, impaling her even further. He can no longer control himself; he needs to keep driving into that welcoming wet heat. He feels her shuddering as he thrusts inside her again and again, her cries mixing so beautifully with his own loud growls of pleasure.

She lets him take control at first, but soon, she starts moving her own hips, twisting and circling around his erection as if she cannot get enough of him. Her body trashes wildly above him, her breasts moving in perfect sync and inflaming him. He grabs both and squeezes them, growling at the way she wails his name in approval.

He is so close, and he trembles at the torment. He _has_ to wait for her. He wants her to come undone before he does. His gaze flies towards her flushed face, and her smile is both of pure greed and pleasure.

“I… I am going t-to…” she keens, throwing her head back. He cannot do anything but match her frantic rhythm, helpless as she drives them both to ecstasy. With one final cry, her trembling exploded in a wave of unbearable heat. She grinds herself harder against him, driving him so deep inside her he cannot even tell where he ends and she begins.

He arches beneath her, shouting, his own release coming in huge waves, filling her. It is so powerful he feels his eyesight momentarily fading into blackness. He feels like he is blindly floating in the middle of the dark cosmos, her delicate touch on his skin his sole guide.

When he comes to, he finds that he is still shaking. He squeezes her hand, needing to find purchase in his surroundings.

“Are you all right?” she asks quietly against his ear. He turns his head to see the contentment on her face, but there is concern in those eyes as well.

He smiles lazily and drops a gentle kiss on her temple. “I have never been better.”

“You look like you were unconscious for a moment there,” she giggles.

He slaps her bottom lightly. “It is your fault. I hope you are happy.”

She laughs and nips his ear. “Oh, to have the almighty Ratonhnhaké:ton turn to putty underneath me? I don’t know… I think I want to see more.”

He sits up and kisses her slowly, taking his time to explore the sweet cavern of her mouth. “You _will_ see more. I swear it,” he breathes.

“Tonight?” She smiles sweetly.

He returns that smile with a naughty smirk. “Whenever you want, my Queen.”


	4. The Taming Of The Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank star-l-ight from Tumblr for not only sending me a prompt to write an epilogue to this story, but also for encouraging me to finish this. It took a LONG time for me to write this mainly because I wasn't sure if I could still write Connor ;A; I also took a long time deciding how the ending should be like. No surprise that it kind of relates to this major story idea that's been festering in my head. :D

It is near midnight when Ratonhnhaké:ton retires to your bed chamber. The look on his face is unsurprisingly tired and you stand up to greet him.

“My love.” You take his hands and kiss them gently. Without waiting for his response, you start to undress him. “Do you wish for a massage tonight?” you ask as you remove his arm bracers.

When he does not respond, you look up. This close, you can see the little frown in his forehead. His normally shining blue eyes look troubled. “Is everything okay?” you ask worriedly. “Is it your Brotherhood?” For the past few days, some of his Brotherhood have been vocal about their disagreements with each other’s opinions. Ratonhnhaké:ton has been very patient; he values each one’s opinion after all, but he has also made it very clear that he does not want petty arguments affecting his rule.

He gives you kiss on the forehead. “No, no, it’s not that. They just…” he coughs at the sudden dryness of his throat. “All day long they keep pestering me with all this talk of ‘expanding my legacy.’” He winces at the last word.

You frown as you continue undressing him. “Your legacy? Do they wish that you expand your rule beyond the Frontier?”

“No.” He catches your hands as you begin to unfurl his belt. “My _legacy._ They want me to secure my lineage to the throne.”

The realisation catches you off-guard. You have been his consort for more than a year now and not once has there been talk of having children. With Ratonhnhaké:ton still working to stabilise his full reign on the colonies it seems rather foolish to bring a child to your still fresh union. You look at him, uncertain. “Do you… wish to have a child?”

He removes the rest of his clothing, though he leaves his wolf hood. Gently, he pulls you closer towards him and walks towards the gigantic mirror that stands in front of your bed. He takes his place behind you and wraps both of his arms around your waist. You momentarily feel a thrill at seeing how he looms over you; the idea that this man, so powerful and massive in physique and in strength, is _yours_ will never cease to amaze you.

One hand rests on your belly. He burrows his face on your hair and takes a deep breath. “I want to _,_ ” he replies, his voice muffled. “I wish to see what our child would look like. I wish to see you as a mother. And I…”he trails off and drops gentle kisses on your face and jaw, tracing their contours lovingly. “More than anything, I wish to be part of it. I want to be a true father, to be there always.”

You close your eyes. You know very well of how he grew up never knowing how it was to have a father guiding him. Oh, you can seeit _so_ clearly – Ratonhnhaké:ton losing sleep as he sings a lullaby to coax your child back to sleep; his patience as he tries to calm down the squalling baby; his smiling face as he teaches your child to walk; his firm hand tempered with benevolence as he guides your child to be the next ruler.

“You will be a great father,” you sigh dreamily, linking your fingers through his.

He echoes your sigh and presses his face against your neck. “But…”

“Hmm?”

“Do _you_ wish to have a child?” he asks, returning the question you have asked him.

The question is unexpected but not strange at all. He has always been sensitive to your needs, always careful to make sure that he never oversteps his bounds. You smile. “I wish for nothing more, my love.”

He hums in contentment. “It will not be easy,” he remarks. No doubt he is recalling what Dobby went through while she was heavy with child.

“You will be there to make it easy for me,” you reply with a smirk.

Laughing a little, he finally takes off his hood, which ruffles his hair. It is longer now, its ends curling delightfully on top of his dark nipples. Several stray hairs escape from the tight knot behind his head, giving him an adorably rumpled look. “Oh? Your very own personal slave?” he teases.

With his arm still wrapped possessively around you, you carefully turn around to face him. “That’s the least you can do. I will be carrying this kingdom’s next ruler after all. If our child takes after his father – which I’m sure he will – he would be a force of nature.”

He gives you that smile that is only reserved for _you –_ that wide grin that crinkles the edges of his eyes. “‘ _He_ ’? Are you sure our child won’t be a ‘ _she’_?” he asks.

“Well, wouldn’t it be more appropriate to have a son continue your reign? That is how kingdoms usually flourish in the Western world.” It seems unthinkable for you, educated as you were with Western principles, to have a woman ruling a kingdom.

He looks mildly annoyed. “And what makes you think that I would allow my kingdom to be a shadow of the West? You forget that I come from a nation where the women have more power than the men.”

Even though the concept is still very foreign to you, his words ring true. However, the very idea that your daughter would have to face men who would likely take her gender as an insult to the monarchy or a reason to not take her seriously is enough to send your heart pounding in distress.

He seems to sense your unease and takes your face in his hands. “Do not worry. She will be a strong woman. If our daughter has your spirit I am sure she would be a fine ruler.” He smirks. “And I would make certain that she would know how to submit men to her will.”

You return his smile. His words are comforting. “She would probably end up terrifying every man in the kingdom that no man would ever want to be with her.”

He growls softly. “No man would ever be worthy.”

Laughing lightly, you stand slightly on your toes to give him a kiss. “But to continue your lineage she needs to have children of her own,” you remind in a teasing voice.

He groans, his eyes taking on that familiar beseeching look. “Please do not speak of that! It’s too early to be thinking about such things!”

You laugh again and give him a hug. You stay like that for several minutes, quite content listening to each other’s soft breathing and feeling each other’s warmth. You take a deep breath and revel in his strong masculine scent. Without fail it weakens your knees and sends your body singing with excitement, but it also reminds you of _home_ \- of a family you thought you lost, of a life you thought would be impossible, of a love you thought you could never experience.

To think that nearly a year ago, you cursed his entire existence and demanded that he brought your life back when all this time he was giving you a new one.

“I love you,” you say against the lump on your throat, breaking the silence.

Ratonhnhaké:ton responds by pressing his forehead against yours. He does not say a word, but the look in those entrancing blue eyes tells you _everything._

“Male or female, no doubt that our child would continue your legacy,” you whisper.

The smile that lights up his handsome face is fond. He retreats back to your massive bed, keeping you close to his body. “ _Our_ legacy,” he says in a husky voice as he pulls impatiently on your shift.

\--

Making love with Ratonhnhaké:ton is always an incredible experience, if a little strenuous. He has never hurt you – not without your consent, that is – but he brings that aggressiveness so tightly coiled within him to you, on your bed and on any other surface he deems suitable enough to mate on.

You _love_ that aggressiveness; you take great pleasure when you feel your overtaxed muscles, that soreness between your legs throbbing so deliciously the next day. You savour the fact that you cannot sit properly and have some difficulty walking for a few days. It is quite obvious from the glow in your cheeks and the smile that never quite disappears from your face that the King has well and thoroughly ravished you again.

And the one person who enjoys seeing you in this state is the King himself. He watches you like a hawk, a small smirk on his face whenever you sit with a wince or when you try to mask your limp with slow and deliberate movements.

Of course, it is not a surprise that someone as ferocious as Ratonhnhaké:ton would have such demanding needs in private. What _is_ surprising is that you, quite delicate and genteel compared to your husband’s massive, almost brutish presence, can easily rival his sexual appetite. Anyone walking by the hall leading to your room would easily hear just how… _enthusiastic_ you can be when Ratonhnhaké:ton is having his very vigorous way with you.

There is little room for gentleness in your lovemaking, not when his touch burns the very depths of your soul and his eyes command that you abandon all inhibitions.

But now…

You moan tiredly when Ratonhnhaké:ton parts your legs. Your skin glimmers with sweat cooling on your skin, the air still heavy with the scent of your lovemaking. He was unusually gentle today, his strokes long, slow, and almost sweet. He has always made you come first and today was no different. But when you reached your peak he kept his gaze locked stubbornly on your face even as he reached his own orgasm with a long guttural sound.

He gently probes his finger inside you, a faraway look in his eyes. “Ratonhnhaké:ton…?” you murmur, puzzled.

He shakes his head with a start and withdraws his finger. “I’m sorry.” He leans down and captures your lips with his own. You wish to ask him what he was thinking deeply about, but as his kiss turns more ardent and he presses his warming body tight against yours, you know you are in it for another long and satisfying ride.

\--

You do not notice it at first. Nothing seems to change until one morning. You are resting by the garden, sitting beside Ratonhnhaké:ton and reading a book while he pours over letters, when a sudden bout of nausea attacks you.

Ratonhnhaké:ton calls your name, concerned. “You look pale. Are you all right?”

“I… I… do not feel…” You clamp a hand on your mouth. The urge to vomit is too great. You stand up hastily and rush towards the nearest basin you can find, which just happens to hold the water that one of your servants is tending the plants with.

You vaguely hear your servant’s squeal of surprise and Ratonhnhaké:ton barking out orders as you retch uncontrollably. You feel gentle fingers combing your hair away from your face and a strong arm supporting you.

When you feel that the worst has passed, you weakly look up to see Ratonhnhaké:ton’s burning gaze. His forehead is marred with a deep frown and his lips are curled tightly.

“My Lord... My Lady…”

You recognise that voice. You turn your head to see Corrine and her husband Oliver, the former innkeepers whom Ratonhnhaké:ton took in to serve him in the kitchen.

The look in both of their faces is that of fear. Ratonhnhaké:ton turns to look at them, his eyes narrowing. “Explain this,” he demands. “Did you give your Queen something foul in her food?”

Corrine shakes her head vehemently while Oliver takes a hesitant step forward. “No, my Lord. We have always made certain that your food is prepared with utmost care. We—”

“THIS is proof otherwise!” Ratonhnhaké:ton interrupts, his fury palpable. “Tell me the truth before I lose my patience: Do you wish to poison your Queen? My _wife_?” he roars.

You wince when both of them shrink back in fear. “Ratonhnhaké:ton, stop…” you say weakly, squeezing his arm. “You do not know that.”

He stares at you with disbelief. “What else could be the reason behind this? You are not sick! You were perfectly fine until this happened!”

“My Lord,” a new voice calls out. _Roselyn_. “If I may be so bold to ask the Queen… may I ask when you last had your menstruation?”

You go still. Your mind is racing. “I… I…” you trail off. “Over a month ago,” you reply, still deep in thought. “N-no, wait.” You mentally count the days. “No, it was close to two months ago,” you whisper almost to yourself. You hear everyone, save your husband, gasping out loud.

The realisation hits you like a thunderbolt.

“What does that mean?” Ratonhnhaké:ton asks, now concerned, though the fury in those eyes is still evident. He turns his gaze to Roselyn. “Is she sick?”

“She is…”

“Pregnant,” you finish, murmuring. “I am pregnant, Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

You can barely hear the explosion of excited chattering from your servants for all your attention is focused on him. His eyes widening in shock is almost comical, but it does not last. You feel as if all the wind is knocked out of you as you behold the smile that lights up his face. It is unlike anything you have ever seen before.

_Like the sun bursting through the clouds_. The comparison is trite, but there really is no other way of putting it. The deepening of those lines should make him look older, but instead he looks young and carefree, a tiny yet revealing glimpse to what he once was before all the anguish… before all the disillusionment. A smile so profoundly honest and so _pure_ it takes your breath away.

And judging from the gasps of surprise from your servants, it has taken theirs, as well.

He leans down and gives you a kiss on your forehead. He then turns around to face Corrine and Oliver. He bows his head. “I’m very sorry for what I said. I know you are very hardworking and trustworthy people. It was very shameful of me to accuse you of such things.”

The couple both take a deep bow. “There is no reason to apologise, my Lord,” Corrine says.

“You were only trying to protect our Queen,” Oliver adds.

Ratonhnhaké:ton walks towards them and touches their shoulders, urging them to stand up. “Please, none of that! I have been disrespectful and disregarded your unerring loyalty to me and this kingdom.”

You watch in amazement as they, along with your other servants, look at him with a reverence reserved for a god. Ratonhnhaké:ton _is_ a god made flesh, commanding obedience and striking fear to the hearts of many, but capable of mercy and a humility that is a rarity among men.

He smiles at them and returns to your side. He wraps his arms around your waist in a gentle embrace.

“Do you wish to announce this joyful news to everyone?” Roselyn asks.

“Not yet. I will make the announcement when we are ready.” He smiles and rubs his nose against yours, a shockingly intimate gesture considering that your servants are still looking on. “For now, prepare dinner as you normally would, but I expect every one of you to be dining with us.”

\--

“Look at how happy they are to receive this,” Ratonhnhaké:ton says low against your ear. You are sitting by the table reserved for both of you during celebrations. It is elevated from the ground, giving you a clear view of everyone in the banquet hall.

The festivities are smaller than the usual fête you are used to seeing. Only his trusted advisers and servants are with you, amounting to about thirty people. It feels more like a celebration with family. You smile fondly. _This is my family now._

A small, intimate gathering like this is expected of your husband. He does not like big ones, primarily because it worries him to no end that such things would attract individuals with sinister plans. Much like the mad Washington before him, he is very protective of his dwelling and does not like outsiders roaming freely inside it.

One of his Brotherhood, Duncan Little, stops in front of you. “My Lord,” he says, bowing deeply. He turns to look at you. “My Lady. You have truly transformed this kingdom for the better. Your child will be a blessing to this nation and will ensure its continued prosperity.”

His words surprise you, but you take care not to show it in your face. Instead, you courteously bow your head. “Thank you, Duncan.”

He smiles widely and takes another deep bow. As you watch him leave and join the rest, you turn to your King. “What does he mean that I have transformed this kingdom for the better? I haven’t done anything.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton’s eyes are shining. “The kingdom is nothing without its king, but more than anything… he is nothing without his queen,” he says softly.

“Oh, stop it. You were ruling just fine before I came to the picture,” you demur, acutely aware of the sudden warming in your cheeks. Over a year together and he can still manage to make you blush like an infatuated youth.

“You diminish your purpose,” he says, his voice hardening for a moment. “You are my Queen and my equal.” His demeanour softens and he cups your face with a hand. “Your voice and your opinions influence me much more than you think.” He places his other hand on top of your belly. “And this little one will keep me grounded, a reminder why I was sent to rule this nation.”

You touch the hand on your belly. “Oh, my love,” you whisper, the warmth in your cheeks spreading its glow throughout your body. Unable to control yourself, you give him a lingering kiss on the lips. It should only be a quick one, but something compels you to open your mouth and naughtily curl your tongue around his. You pay no heed at how the voices in the hall fall into a hush. It is their first time to see you this affectionate to their King after all. When you break away, Ratonhnhaké:ton’s eyes are blazing with lust, his shoulders tense as he tries to keep his control.

You smile in that mischievous way that only he can comprehend. It is a smile that _dares_ him to do something. You know by the way his eyes darken and how he bites his bottom lip that he is thinking about _that_ dream you had of him so many months ago. You still remember how he reacted when you told him everything.

_“You dreamt that?_ All _of that?” His face was that of complete astonishment._

_“And more.” Smiling, you took off the blanket that covered you both and smirked at his half-hard erection. “I also came when I woke up.”_

_The shock quickly wore off. The smile that pulled his lips was all teeth; it reminded you of a wolf about to feast on its meal. “I’m sorry, I’m still having a difficult time believing that you would dream of something so… depraved.” The way he uttered the last word brought chills to your spine. In a smooth movement, he flipped your positions, keeping you trapped underneath him._

_“Do you wish to service me in that manner in front of everyone? That would pose a problem. I do not want them to know that my Queen is very skilled with her mouth.” You let out a surprised moan when you felt two fingers slip inside you easily. Leaning down, his mouth hovering so close against your ear, he let out a guttural sound that made your limbs tremble and your hips rise towards him. “You are mine,” he growled. “And this,” he took out his fingers and roughly slipped them inside your mouth, letting you taste your own essence, “is only mine to enjoy.”_

_You squealed when he suddenly flipped you over, showing off your rump to his hungry eyes. Without warning, he slapped the fleshy cheeks with each word that came out from his mouth: “No. One. Else.” He gave it another slap, a little harder this time, causing you to jerk your bottom closer to him. “Oh? Looks like my Queen loves a little bit of pain,” he purred, his voice dark and full of wicked promises._

You shake yourself from that memory when you notice Ratonhnhaké:ton’s nostrils flaring a little. No doubt he can smell your arousal right now. The wolf can smell _everything_ , most especially his consort’s eagerness to mate.

The silence in the hall is deafening, making you more acutely aware of the pounding in your heart and his ragged way of breathing. You can almost feel your servants’ waiting with bated breath for their King to order them to get out.

But the order does not happen. Instead, he gives you a glare and quickly averts his gaze to address his loyal subjects. “Shall we move on to the wine?” he asks pleasantly, the clipped tone in his voice unnoticeable to everyone but you. The room erupts in cheers while you hide a smile. A sexually frustrated Ratonhnhaké:ton always promises you a night of wanton revelries.

\--

He does not even wait for you to reach the bed. As soon as you close the door to your bedroom he pushes you roughly against the wall, pulling your arms above your head with one hand gripping your wrists tightly. “I should punish you for making me almost lose control in front of everyone,” he hisses.

You arch your body towards him, the moan that comes out from your throat breathy and high-pitched – just the way he loves it. Sure enough, he groans your name, his hand on your wrists tightening. One hard thigh finds its way between your legs and you can feel his erection, heavy against your hip.

“Take me. _Please_ ,” you whimper, “Right here, right against this wall.” His sudden intake of breath tells you more than words ever could. “ _You know you want to, Ratonhnhaké:ton_ ,” you say haltingly in his language.

He freezes. In the dim light of the room, his blue eyes are luminous and almost inhuman, pupils blown with lust. And yet his body trembles like a leaf in a storm, sharp white teeth biting on his lower lip, hard enough to draw some blood. It looks like he is trying to resist.

“What’s stopping you?” You arch your body towards him again, but to your surprise he withdraws slightly with a shake of his head.

“You are pregnant.” He steps back. You whine at the loss of contact and try to pull him back in, but he merely catches your hands in his. “I cannot— _we_ cannot do this.”

You look at him, eyebrows drawn in disbelief. “I’m only a month pregnant! And besides, this…” you place one hand on your belly, “doesn’t make me weaker. I don’t understand why—”

He shakes his head and places a gentle finger on your lips, cutting the rest of your words. His eyes are troubled. “Do you remember what Dobby experienced?”

You pause. _Of course, I remember._ You know the difficulty she experienced while carrying Clipper’s child. You remember fully well how the fiercest of Ratonhnhaké:ton’s  advisers struggled as she went on to her ninth month. The birth of their child was no easy task, too, and it was only due to Doctor White’s remarkable skills that ensured the well-being of both mother and child.

But you also know what made Dobby’s pregnancy difficult. “She is an older woman, Ratonhnhaké:ton. It is known that older women usually have more difficulty with their pregnancies.” You smile at him comfortingly. “Now, I am hardly a spritely young girl, but you did not choose a woman with a weak constitution as your consort. You know the strength I have within this body.” Your smile turns naughty and you lick your lips. “And you know how much I can take _your_ strength,” you purr, slowly trailing your gaze over his body, pausing at the noticeable bulge in his crotch. You look up at him through your eyelashes and bite your bottom lip.

Your smile turns even more suggestive as you notice that his tattoos have started to glow faintly. Those tattoos, simple and unassuming as they are, are the marks of his power. They flare up whenever he summons the animal spirits within him, silently screaming the raw power and godlike strength in his body. But you also know that they can speak of other things, how they whisper his latent desires, urging him to give in to his ravenous greed to mate.

“ _Damn it, woman,”_ he curses in his language. _“You are making this hard for me.”_

“Then stop resisting.” You take a step forward and grasp his erection in your hand. “I can take it. You won’t hurt me.”

He growls out another curse. He shoves your hand away and without warning, shoves you against the wall once more, his mouth locked on yours in a brutal kiss.

\--

The first few months of your pregnancy pass by without incident. Your bouts of nausea disappear by the third month. Your belly is also starting to show, although it is still small enough to be concealed with your regular dresses.

By this time, word has gotten around the kingdom that the Queen is expecting. Most have received the news with joy, but some are predictably against it. They are the very same people who reject the notion of a single ruler and are very insistent in their calls for a “government ruled by the people.” The rest of the kingdom scoff at this, but it is nonetheless a little annoyance that has bothered Ratonhnhaké:ton more than he would care to admit.

Strangely, these past few months you have noticed that instead of telling you his irritation over this noisy but small opposition, he has grown silent about it. He prefers to stay quiet as he places one gentle hand on your belly, a thoughtful look in his face.

“What are you thinking about?” you finally ask. You hardly ask him a question like this, but your curiosity has gotten the better of you.

“The future of our little one,” he says, his voice low. Both of you are sitting by the window of your bedroom. His eyes look very soft underneath the late afternoon sunlight.

“He or she will make a fine ruler, my love,” you reply. You rest your head against the crook of his neck.

He merely hums in response. Normally, he would agree, but you know that something is _very_ different today. Unable to resist, you sit up straight to look at him closer. “Is there something bothering you?” Not waiting for his response, you add, “You’re acting a little different.”

He frowns a little and averts his gaze. “Of course you noticed that,” he murmurs almost to himself. His lips curl into a smile, the look in his eyes turning flustered. “I have been thinking,” he begins. He sounds uncharacteristically nervous. “About this kingdom’s future… about how it doesn’t need our legacy to continue ruling over it.”

His words are like a slap to your face. “W-what?” You push him away, trying to ignore the barely concealed hurt that darkens his face. “What brought this on, Ratonhnhaké:ton? Don’t listen to what a tiny opposition is demanding you! You know better! You know better than everyone else what this kingdom needs! You are _meant_ to rule over this land. You rescued it from the clutches of an evil tyrant and—”

He shakes his head and puts a gentle hand on top of your mouth. Your remaining words die down in your throat. “I know what I accomplished and I am proud of setting things right again. But…” He trails off and looks at your belly. He touches it once more and closes his eyes. “Are we sure this is what the little one will want?”

You shake your head. Your husband’s words are getting more and more baffling. “What?”

“What if they would prefer a different life? What if bringing them to this,” he gestures around him, “would just force them into doing something they never wanted?”

“You’re not forcing our child anything. Ruling will be their birthright—”

“And that is precisely the problem.” He sighs. “What if they reject that birthright? This is a burden not easily taken.”

You shake your head once more, this time more vigorously. “You are not making sense. For your rule to continue, you need an heir. You need—”

“What if I do not want my rule to continue? What if I wish to end this and give the people what they truly need?” His voice is quiet, but his words are very clear and unmistakable.

They hit you hard, as if the weight of the world has suddenly fallen flat on your shoulders. “N-no! Are you giving up? On this? On _all_ of this? You would leave all of your hard work because of our child? No! Your kingdom needs _you!_ ” Your mind is racing now, frantic and blindly grasping for anything that would _fix_ this. You grasp your belly with both hands. “Maybe it would have been better if I never got pregnant. Maybe we should terminate—”

The sudden change in his expression is swift. His eyes harden. “ **NO** ,” he snaps. You shrink back in fear. You have heard him use that voice several times, but _never_ on you. “I will _not_ allow it.” Then he finally notices your fear and his look turns gentle again. He stretches out his arms, welcoming you back to his warm embrace. “This kingdom needed only direction after I saved it from tyranny,” he murmurs against your hair. “Jefferson was right – this country _must_ be ruled by the people. I would be no different from Washington if I continue ruling like a king.”

“B-but… you are this kingdom’s protector, you—”

“And I will continue doing so,” he interrupts you. He places gentle hands on your face and looks deeply into your eyes. “But not on a throne.”

You shake your head, still unwilling to believe everything that you are hearing. “Why? Is it really because of our child?”

A sheepish smile tugs the corner of his mouth. You feel your heart leaping to your throat at the sight of it. His eyes are so innocent, his expression taking on – you can hardly think it possible – an _adorable_ look. “I admit – it is only part of it.” He takes a deep breath and plays with the strands of your hair. “For the past few months I thought about living with you and growing our family in a place away from all of these.” He closes his eyes. “You remember that I’ve had visions of a life different from this, do you not? Away from power… away from dominion. A simpler life.”

“I remember, but…”

“I have done my part. The people need to stand on their own.”

“But what if they can’t?”

He frowns, but that look of resolve returns to his face. “It’s better to have faith in them than nothing at all.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton’s unerring faith is no surprise to you, but to see him place so much trust on the people is extraordinary. You raise your hand and trail your fingers along his face, tracing its contours, each blemish like a much-loved fabric under your fingertips. “You’ve changed so much, Ratonhnhaké:ton. What happened to the predatory wolf that took me in to his lair long ago? Is fatherhood taming you?” you tease.

“You’ve tamed me the very moment I laid my eyes on you.” His voice sounds light, but the serious look in his face betrays his real emotion. You can feel your cheeks colouring all the more when you notice that his eyes are shining with contentment. _He’s so beautiful. Can other people see him the way I do? Or will they always just see him as a brute?_

His chuckle breaks your thoughts. “Your cheeks are so red they look like overripe tomatoes.”

“Oh, hush!” You playfully swat him away, smiling as his chuckles deepen.

\--

Surprisingly, his decision to step down as a ruler isn’t met with a strong opposition from his advisers. Perhaps they noticed the change in his behaviour and had already expected him to do this. They expressed their regrets, but swore that they would continue to follow him wherever he goes and help him maintain the peace.

The next four months pass by in a blur. In those months Ratonhnhaké:ton has called for a meeting with Jefferson and the others, oversaw the transition, made certain of a new government voted by the people, all the while securing a land somewhere in the north east where you would stay.

You are nearing your eight month when you and Ratonhnhaké:ton leave. The rest of your household has already left the night before. The only ones accompanying you now are his trusted Brotherhood. Your husband refuses to make a spectacle out of it, so you do it very early in the morning when the city is still fast asleep.

Through the window of your carriage, you look wistfully at the pyramid, once Washington’s dwelling of power turned to your home and now a bureau of the new government. You feel your husband’s arm around your waist. He pulls you closer to him. “Missing it already?” he murmurs against your hair.

“I’ll be lying if I said no. That is where we made a lot memories together after all.” You sigh and lay your head on his bare shoulder. He has chosen to forego the bear cloak that usually drapes over one shoulder and has neatly folded his wolf hood in the corner of your seat. You are grateful for this; you love the feel of his bare skin against yours and that solid warmth that is more comforting to you than anything else.

You feel his hand resting on your swollen belly. “I know, but we’ll be making more memories together… especially with this little one involved,” he says. He grasps your chin and turns your face gently towards him. “And who knows… maybe there will be more little ones coming.”

You swat him playfully on the nose and he responds with a laugh. “I haven’t even given birth yet and you already want more children?” you ask incredulously.

He drops a loving kiss on your forehead. “Only if you want to,” he replies in a soft voice.

“Damn it, Ratonhnhaké:ton, you know I can’t resist you when you act like that.”

“Maybe I am doing this to subtly convince you that I want five more children,” he says teasingly, his eyes twinkling.

You elbow him, earning a chuckle. “And you are doing a mighty fine job with it. Stop it before I give in to those puppy eyes.”

He laughs again and pulls you closer. He buries his face against your hair and inhales your scent deeply. “I love you. Always.”

You snuggle closer to him, closing your eyes as you feel his warmth and steady beating of his heart. He has never been the type to fully vocalise his emotions; he prefers to let his actions do the most of the talking. You have long accepted that side of him, but still… when he says those words the euphoria that wells up inside you is like being caught in the middle of a storm of _his_ making, and you are helpless as it pulls you deeper and deeper into its embrace, into an abyss that you will never escape from.

“ _Konnorónhkwa_ ,” you say against his neck, smiling at how his body shudders a little in response, still unused to you using his native language.

“If you are not heavily pregnant you know what I would do to you,” he mutters. He snakes a hand beneath you and you squeal when he lightly pinches your buttocks. You laugh and close your eyes, the rhythmic movement of your carriage and your husband’s too-warm body slowly lulling you to sleep.

\--

The land that your husband has secured is very rich and expansive – truly the perfect place to raise a family. With your former servants living in their own houses, an economy thriving on trade with the bigger cities, and Ratonhnhaké:ton’s Brotherhood living nearby as well, it feels less like a neighbourhood and more of a small country capable of defending itself.

You are in your ninth month now. Ratonhnhaké:ton has insisted that you stay at home or – if he is not present - preferably with Doctor White by your side. His concern is unsurprising, but sometimes his protectiveness can be a little too much. He even refuses to let you do the simplest of tasks, such as fixing the bed or dusting off the shelves filled with your books. While you very much love seeing your husband do the most menial of household chores, you do not appreciate being seen as a frail woman.

“For pity’s sake, Ratonhnhaké:ton, I think I can handle paring an apple!” you exclaim as he takes away the small knife and apple that you were just holding a second ago.

He fixes his blue gaze at you. Without even looking down at the apple, he effortlessly removes its red skin. “And what if you go into labour while holding onto this knife?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not going to drop it if that’s what you’re implying. You’re being ridiculous! I can’t even take a bath by myself; you always insist in going with—hrmmmmm.” Your words die down when he feeds you one sliced apple.

“I know you can, but,” he trails off and feeds you another slice, “I just want things to be easy for you.” He sets aside the knife and apple, and pulls you close to him. He touches your belly and massages it gently. “It is unfair that you have to carry this all by yourself,” he murmurs against your hair.

You blink back the sudden tears that form in your eyes. Maybe it is your hormones making you emotional, but you are always at a loss for words when he reveals this side of him that nobody else has seen. “I’m not alone. I may be the one bearing our child, but you will be the source of my strength when the time comes.”

“I know,” he sighs. “But it is unreasonable that a husband can only support his wife with words of encouragement while she goes through unbearable pain.” His eyes are so soft, lacking their usual intensity.

“Oh, my sweet love.” You give him a long and the most loving kiss, ending it with a little peck on top of his nose. You affectionately run your fingers along the braid that you made for him this morning (one of the few things he still allows you to do because he enjoys your hands on his hair). It is very long now, the rich silky strands ending inches below his waist. You wonder briefly if he should cut it short, but you quickly shove that thought away when you remember how he looks like waking up with that adorably dishevelled hair.

“Let’s go outside,” he says with one arm around your waist.

Your house is on top of a hill overlooking the vast river that also holds as the port of your husband’s ship. There are a few slabs of smooth rocks directly overlooking the ship that serve as seats. He sits down on one of them and motions you to sit on his lap. You smile. This has become one of his most favoured things to do when he needs repose from his duties - to simply enjoy your presence near him while overlooking the vastness of the land that, for all intents and purposes, has become his kingdom.

You start to follow his wordless order, but then a sudden cramp in your belly stops you in your tracks. He immediately stands up and his arms are around you before you can even let out a single moan of pain.  “Is it coming?”

For a few moments you are taken aback by how his eyes suddenly have a strange glow to them. It is not the same furious glow that foretells of the great power he is about to unleash. It is not even the same glow that betrays his hunger at the height of your passions. He is… _frightened_ and it is as if the glow in his eyes is attempting to mask his true emotion.

You want to smile, but another spasm of pain interrupts your musings. “Y-y-yes. I think it is,” you gasp.

\--

When I first met him it seemed like his descent into madness was certain. He was lost, his lust for more power pushing him further down the path that ensured his ruin. A mortal should never gain so much, let alone _touch_ the very source of this power, and yet… he managed to fold it into himself. _How_ …? Men are never meant to be gods. And yet this power that still shines so brightly inside him is _one_ with him, inasmuch as a soul is united with its body.

I watch in the shadows as he cradles his newborn, the trembling in his arms almost unnoticeable to everyone except to myself and his mate. _No_. Not merely his mate. She is far more than that.

_Men are never meant to hold the power he wields… but then these men do not have a woman like her by their side._ I start at that thought. Sappy as it might be, it is true. _She_ has given him the strength to gain mastery over that unyielding force and – as I watch him smile through the sudden tears when his daughter wraps one tiny hand around his finger – I know that there is nothing else in this world that could make him lose control of what he has become.

He is Ratonhnhaké:ton, the Great Wolf that almost had the world in his hands, but chose to relinquish all that power for the sake of the ones he loved the most. The Wolf may have been tamed, but he is far from harmless. He _will_ use his power to anyone who dares threaten him and his loved ones.

I know this, because I have been guiding him to this path.

Without warning, he lifts his face to look directly at me. I know it is impossible that he can even _see_ , so I stare right back. He narrows his eyes and I can tell that he can _almost_ perceive my existence.

It is never like looking at the mirror. We may look alike and we may even act the same, but the divide between us is so great that we can never be one. This life is _his_ in the same way that the Ratonhnhaké:ton in other lives are theirs.

Who am I, then? I am the one that can see all of them. I make certain that these lives, no matter how different, never stray too far from each other. I whisper words that translate to their thoughts, stories that they see as dreams.

I lift my arm as an orb materialises in my hand. It shines and the image in front of me wavers as countless others push their way forward, begging for my attention. Who am I? _I am the Ratonhnhaké:ton borne from the Apple, and I have come to set things right._

\- fin -


End file.
